
Class_r_2L.^ 



Copyright N" 



COPyRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



■SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

A SUMMER 



— ON- 



NANTUCKET ISLAND 



Af JUDD NORTHRUP 



Author of "Camps and Tramps ix the Adirondack> 



SECOND EDITION 




SYRACUSE, N. Y. 

C. W. BARDEEN, PUBLISHER 



Copyright, 1881, 1901, by A. Judd Nortliriii 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

AUG. 15 1901 

Copyright entbv 

CLASS ^^XXc. N». 

COPY B. 



TO 

"My Laddie" 

THEODORE 



\^ 



V 



.v^ 



PREFACE 

The Island of Xantucket has, within a few years, 
been " discovered " again, — this time by seekers for 
summer rest^and recuperation; and it has been found 
to be one of the most delightful, peaceful and health- 
ful of sea-side resorts. Indeed, it is not strictly a 
*' sea-side " resort, for it is as much out in the ocean as 
a vessel on her way to Liverpool. 

In the following pages, by relating the actual experi- 
ences of my family and myself, for one summer on the 
Island, and picturing, as faithfully as I can, the Island 
scenery, simply as it impressed me, and bringing to 
view, or at least hinting at, much else that seemed to 
me to be interesting, I have endeavored to give the 
reader a fair and reasonable impression of summer life 
on ]S^antucket, and, incidentally, of sea-shore life in 
general. 

'Sconset, a little hamlet on the extreme south-east- 
ern end of the Island, was our home, and the centre 

(iii) 



jy PREFA.CE 

of our domestic and social life. I have written of it 
fully, partly because it has delighted me to do so, and 
partly because I have hoped thereby to do a beneBt to 
those who may seek the sea-side with their families, 
and who want to know how to obtain the largest meas- 
ure of healthful enjoyment, with the least amount of 
worry and expense. And I hope, too, that the sum- 
mer lounger,— and may we all be such for at least a 
few vacation days!— with mind and mood attuned to 
simple pleasures, will find something to gratify him in 
this story of so quiet and quaint a thing as " 'Sconset 
Cottage Life." ^- J- ^• 

Syracuse, X. Y., May 19, 1881. 



PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION 



'Sconset has undergone some marked changes, 
mainly in the construction of many new and gome 
palatial cottages, and a broad highway from " town ", 
since the events of this little book occurred, but it 
and the life in it are in most respects essentially the 
same as twenty years ago. Its spirit, its simple pleas- 
ures, its ever resounding surf, the battle on " the 
rips ", the glamour of the moors at sunset, — these 
and a hundred other things remain as of yore. Xature 
still holds sturdily to ^her grandeur and her glory. 
A new generation of lovers of quaint 'Sconset has 
arisen, and still the old lovers come back during the 
dreamy days of summer, all gathering out of air and 
sky, moor and ocean, health and rest and joy as of old. 
And so it has seemed to me that these lovers of 'Scon- 
set, old and new, as well as other dreamers of the sea, 
may possibly find some pleasure in this new illustrated 
edition of " 'Sconset Cottage Life " as it actually was 
in the former days and still is in its broader aspects. 

(V) 



VI PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION" 

If that " Life " in some respects is more a memory 
than a picture of the present, even then I hope the 
memory is worth recalling and retaining for its unique 
simplicity and quaintness. 

A. JUDD NORTHRUP 

Syracuse, N. Y., July, 1901 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER I 
Plans and Preliminaries 11 

CHAPTER II 

Off for 'Sconset — A Moving Scene— Boys and 
Eels 17 

CHAPTER III 
A Second Migration — Notes by the Way — Heads 
AND Sub-heads 28 

CHAPTER IV 
First Views — Ocean — ' Sconset — Cottage — Sleepy 
Hollow 34 

CHAPTER V 
Surf- BATHING 47 

CHAPTER VI 
Island Wanderings — Blue- Fishing — Codfishing... 57 

CHAPTER VII 

'Sconset People 65 

(vii) 



Vlll CONTESTTS 

CHAPTER VIII 
Sunday at 'Sconset 73 

CHAPTER IX 
The Squantum — Sachacha Pond — On the Moors. . . 78 

CHAPTER X 
A Day IN " Nantucket Town " 88 

CHAPTER XI 
'' A-sharking" 100 

CHAPTER XII 
Blue-fishing Ill 

CHAPTER XIII 
Ned and ''the Barnum Boys" go A-camping — A 
Day at Wauwinet 122 

CHAPTER XIV 
A Lonely Evening Tramp — Tom Never' s Head. ...134 

CHAPTER XV 
The Ocean in a Storm— "The Rips" 139 

CHAPTER XVI 
'Sconset Social Life — Various Sorts of People... 146 

CHAPTER XVII 
Like a Bee-hive — That Gun — "Wearing Boys". .151 

CHAPTER XVIII 
Latter Days — The Library again 155 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Map of Nantucket Island 10 

Broadway 33 

The Town Pump 37 

Cottage — "His Own House" 38 

Surf off 'Sconset Bank 48 

"Backward Flow" 54 

S ANKATY Light 57 

Off Sankaty Bank 58 

Post Office 66 

"Our Cottage" 151 



(IX) 



'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 
A SUMMER ON NANTUCKET ISLAND 



CHAPTER I 

PLAXS AJs^D PRELIMINARIES 

'T^HE winter snows were yet heavy on the earth. We 
two, the " joint head" of the household, sat in 
the library before the bright fire in the grate, one eve- 
ning, after the baby and the youngsters had subsided 
and gone to bed. 

" I have been thinking," said the charming little 
woman who had been steadfastly gazing into the fire 
for the space of ten silent minutes while the master 
of the house sat reading his evening paper; " I have 
been thinking," repeated she with portentous delibera- 
tion, " that it would be an excellent plan to take the 
children and all go to the sea-shore next summer." 

" Sea-shore! "exclaimed I in amazement; " how on 
earth do you expect I am to spare a whole family away 

(11) 



12 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

oil at the sea-shore for a whole summer! Indeed, 
Where's all the money to come from ? And do you 
suppose you would have any boys left after a summer 
by an ocean full of water! " 

" I have been thinking," imperturbably continued 
my wife, evidently prepared for my burst of astonish- 
ment, " that the children and I could all go to 'Scon- 
set, take a cottage for the season, live there as quietly 
as you please and far more economically than at home, 
for three months; and you can come down and join 
us for three or four weeks in place of going to the 
Adirondacks for at least this one summer." 

There was the woman of it — the suggestion that by 
this arrangement one of my fondest dreams would be 
realized, a summer vacation by the sea with all my 
family! x\ll the rest might be impracticable, a wo- 
man's fancy, a heavy expense, and all that; but in- 
stantly there came over me the old longing for the sea 
with its swelling waves and roaring breakers, and my 
heart and head were filled with all the poetry and 
romance of old Ocean. The cherished day-dreams 
took form and substance and seemed about to be 
realized — this, too, with the good little wife, and with 
the lads whose daily nonsense and hilarity, eager ques- 



PLANS AND PRELIMINARIES 13 

tions and zestful enjoyment of the old things which 
are ever new to each new generation of boys, are keep- 
ing me young and half romantic in my heart despite 
the labors and cares of the full tide of middle life! 

It was therefore with a changed tone and manner 
that I now said, " I don't know but there may be 
something in that; tell me all about it." 

" Well, 'Sconset, as you know, is right on the end of 
the nose that Xantucket Island thrusts out into the 
Atlantic, — as if sniffing and smelling the sea-breezes 
that come fresh and pure and strong all the way from 
the West Indies or from Spain, without an inch of 
land between it and them. The island itself is so well 
out to sea that there are no land-breezes, which on the 
coast of the main-land occasionally bring most distress- 
ingly enervating days. Besides, it is the most peace- 
ful, quiet and restful place on the globe. It is almost 
as much out of the world as Patagonia." 

" And, for a family of children, about as difficult to 
reach, I imagine," said I. 

" Not very difficult," continued Mrs. Imperturb- 
able, who had evidently " been thinking " to some 
purpose on this pet project of hers, with a view to 
meeting every objection that I might urge. "I am 



14 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

sure I had no trouble in getting there, last summer, 
with Theodore, helpless as the poor little fellow was. 
To Boston, is simple enough; a transfer there to the 
Old Colony Railroad Depot; another at Wood's Holl 
to the steamer ; still another at Xantucket town from 
steamer to Captain Baxter's stage or some private con- 
Teyance; a seven miles' ride over the sandy road — and 
you reach 'Sconset, safe and sound, twenty-four hours 
from home." 

She had indeed done what she was describing, and 
much more, and knew whereof she spoke. Without 
giving me time to interrupt, she continued: 

" I might as well confess it and have it off my con- 
science, — I have already written to Mr. Folger, who 
owns one of the nicest of the little cottages on the 
'Sconset bluff above the beach, one of the old fisher- 
men's houses, a little box of a thing, but as cosey and 
cunning a place as you ever saw, and the dearest place 
for ' love in a cottage ', you know! This very day I 
have received a reply from Mr. Folger, and he says we 
can have his cottage, if we wish, for the season — that 
is, from June 1st to September 1st — all furnished and 
ready to move into, for 150. Isn't that nice! and 
* reasonable ', as you men always say; and wouldn't 



PLANS AXD PRELIMINARIES 15 

we have the most delightful time in the world! Just 
think of it — a summer of cottage life by the sea! — the 
very thing you have always been dreaming of! Xow, 
don't you think it is ' wise ', and ' sensible ', ' the per- 
fection of plans ' ? Say ' Yes' ' Be a good, nice man, 
and believe for once that your ' little wife ' has thought 
out very wisely, all by herself, something delightful — 
and ' practical ' ! " 

What could I say ? My own fancy and her enthusi- 
asm had borne me along, a most willing victim. Yet 
I rallied, and finally insisted that this wise little wo- 
man should make " her figures " on the expenses of 
the proposed expedition; and, with the conservatism 
and caution of a discreet husband and domestic comp- 
troller, vouchsafed the declaration that when she had 
done so " I would consider the matter further." 

As anybody might have foreseen, the figures of this 
cunning enthusiast, when made, were "all right". 
The poetry of mathematics is never more beautifully 
embodied and illustrated than when projecting a vaca- 
tion or a travelling tour the prospective expenses are 
put down in black and white — by a woman. In this 
case, when the wonderful schedule was shown me, I 
suggested many things, — for instance, "transporta- 
tion". 



16 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

" Oh, I forgot that! " was the easy and honest re- 
sponse. 

Finally we got that matter all clear and of course, 
since the woman's heart was set upon it, it was decided 
that the family should go to 'Sconset for the summer, 
and that I should join them for my own briefer vaca- 
tion as soon as I could. It was a clear case of foreor- 
dination from the start. 



CHAPTER II 

OFF FOR 'SCONSET — A MOVING SCENE — LETTERS — BOTS 
AND EELS 

A FTER many seriously busy days in June, there 
came one grand, climacteric and most notable 
day, upon the evening of which " the family " were 
to depart. The procession of errand boys, delivery 
wagons, and messengers to and from the dresssmaker's 
shoemaker's and all sorts of makers, gradually dis- 
solved. There was hurrying to and fro within doors; 
trunks were yawning and waiting to be packed ; faces 
of boisterous urchins were receiving their final scrub- 
bing and polishing, and freshly cropped heads were 
undergoing the salutary discipline of the brush ; trunk- 
straps were being hunted for, high and low; the ever- 
so-many odds and ends of things were every now and 
then being remembered and hastily sought all over the 
upturned house; and the volunteer hands of half a 
dozen female relatives and friends were as busy as 
they could be in every direction, 

(17) 



18 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

Meanwhile a helpless man, the meek husband and 
father of this family, paced up and down the piazza, 
watch in hand (the occasion seemed something between 
a funeral and a wedding), counting the quarter hours 
and minutes, and wondering " if they would ever be 
ready up-stairs." Occasionally he ascended to the 
region of chaos, gazed in a most disheartened way in- 
to the packing-room and saw with dismay the bed and 
chairs and floor covered with matters and things that 
were evidently to go into the still nearly empty trunks. 
Then with wrinkled brow and ill-concealed apprehen- 
sion he wandered to the rooms where the dressing was 
proceeding. Choas everywhere! 

The wretched family man groaned and despairingly 
said, "You'll be late, I know! It isn't possible for 
all those things to get into the trunks, and for you all 
to be dressed in time for the train! " 

" Just run down stairs, you horrid man, and don't 
bother us right in the midst of all this hurry! — I 
guess we shall come out all right." And over the 
head and shoulders of the little matron went some 
female toggery or other as she uttered these depreca- 
tory and half hopeful words. 

The anxious " horrid man " slowly descended to the 



OFF FOR 'SCONSET — A MOVING SCENE 19 

piazza again, killing as much time on the way as pos- 
sible, watch in hand, and gazed down the street for 
the carriage and baggage- wagon already due. The sun, 
too, was sliding down the western sky with fatal swift- 
ness. Xo Joshua checked its career, no Vanderbilt 
held the train, while the madam and the three boys 
and girl-baby should be finally dressed, and the lids 
of the ponderous trunks should at last be closed. 

" Here's the baggage-man, and the carriage is just 
turning the corner! '' shouts the distracted man, up 
the stairs, his terror-laden voice resounding through 
all the upper regions. 

" In a minute I — we'll be ready in a minute! " was 
the response from somewhere above, — from a mouth 
half filled with pins. 

A dozen feet were hastening from room to room ; the 
boys were shouting and laughing and chasing each 
other in great glee; the baby was protesting in her 
own fashion as the nurse finished curling her hair; and 
the whole atmosphere was full of voices and hurry and 
scurry as if the house were on fire. 

Three painful minutes elapsed. 

" Shall we come up for the trunks ? " shouted the 
anxious husband. 



20 'scon-set COTTA.GE LIFE 

" In a minute! " came dimly down through the 
noise of voices and feet. 

Five minutes. 

*' Shall we come ? " 

" In a minute! " sounded again down from some 
other part of the upper region. 

Ten, fifteen minutes passed. 

*' The man says you can't catch the train if you are 
not ready to send the trunks! " 

" In a minute! " — a scurrying from one room to 
another. 

" Come! " said another voice from the head of the 
stairs. 

That baggage — hosts of it — was locked and strapped 
and bundled and got down stairs somehow in a won- 
derful way and in the shortest time on record. The 
family followed "in a minute " and were almost 
tumbled into the carriage, and away we went with 
wave of hands, a flourish of the whip and the rattle 
of wheels over the pavements. 

We caught the train! After the baggage was all 
checked and the whole family party and Jane, " the 
faithful ", were safely and cosily bestowed in the 
sleeping-car, the good-byes all said and said over again. 



LETTERS 21 

and the long train moved slowly out of the depot, one 
citizen heaved a sigh of relief, and sought his lonely 
home. 

" The family " were off for 'Sconset and their cot- 
tage by the sea ! 

The next morning came a telegram from Boston — 
^' Here all safe and sound — comfortable night; " and 
in due time a hurried postal from 'Sconset itself, sent 
out to Xantucket by the man who took the family over 
to the hamlet, announcing their safe arrival. 

Then came daily letters of the daily doings and hap- 
penings, letters full of feminine enthusiasms over the 
quaint life, the sea, the moors and the people of that 
out of the world bit of creation ; full of little domes- 
tic experiences — cares and ^^leasures of their cottage 
life; full of that wonderful girl-baby, not quite two 
years old and just beginning the great work of mas- 
tering the vocabulary; — and not forgetting the scarcely 
less wonderful " Jane ", who was nurse and house- 
keeper and peace and rest and spinal column for the 
whole household. Glimpses of the beauty and quaint- 
ness of such a life and its surrounding came in almost 
every epistle to the solitary man at home. 

" I could scarcely have believed," said one letter, 



22 'SCOKSET COTTAGE LIFE 

'* that a whole family, baby and all, could be trans- 
ported 80 easily. And, at the end of our journey, we 
found the cottage in a most perfect state of neatness. 
I never saw any place more exquisitely clean and 
orderly. I think even the soul of my dear friend and 

paragon of housekeepers, M — D , would have been 

delighted and satisfied. The old sense of restfulness, 
that I used to feel last summer, came upon me im- 
mediately. 

" Xed, however, as I anticipated, tired himself out, 
the very first day after our arrival, in tramping up and 
down the beach through the sand trying to shoot sea- 
gulls, which wisely kept just out of range of his gun; 
and at night he was thoroughly disgusted with Nan- 
tucket and all its belongings. But this morning he 
and Elliott have been to Sankaty where they went in 
bathing in a light surf, and he has come home believ- 
ing that ' life is worth living '. 

"Our cottage is such a nice little home! I am per- 
fectly delighted with it. I wish you could see how 
happy the baby is. She trots around in her little blue 
flannel dress and looks so cunning! Yesterday morn- 
ing she went out into the tall grass in our little back 
yard. The grass was topped out full and the daisies 



LETTERS 23 

ill it were thick and tall. As she moved around, her 
little fair curly head was on a level with the flowers and 
grass-tips. She was reaching up and picking them 
with her plump little hands, the prettiest hit of a 
picture I have seen in a long time. She seems to 
appreciate that the ocean is something new, and says 
' wa-wa ' whenever she sees it. This morning I took 
her down to the beach, which is just below the bank 
and behind our cottage, took off her stockings, and 
Theo.'s also, and the two had the merriest time in the 
warm clean sand! " 

By and by the boys wrote, painting the picture from 
their stand-point. Elliott, the " nine-year-old ", led 
off as follows: 
" Dear Papa — 

I went perch fishing with Xed we went to Sackacha 
pond we went by the beach and we got out of bate and 
we had to bite off pieces of A fish to bate our hooks 
with we caught about 75 fishes. Friday night Xed 
and Kirkwhite from detroit went eel bobing. They 
brought home about eighteen eels, but they caught 
more and lost them. 

Your affectionate son 

Elliott." 

The youngster's first epistolary effort had at least 
the merit of directness, and taught his father (some- 



24 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

what of a sportsman) a " new wrinkle " or two in the 
matter of resources. But I take it that it was Xed's 
genius that suggested "biting off pieces of A fiali to 
bate our hooks with." 

Ned himself, the eldest of the three lads, fourteen 
years old^ with muscles like steel springs, and courage 
to match, a good swimmer, a fair wing-shot, all his 
senses alert as a j^oung Indian's, the inventor (on 
paper) of submarine vessels — notably " The Nautilus ", 
after the manner of Jules Verne's, — flying machines, 
and other impossibles, — Ned himself forgot his fun 
one day long enough to write a letter which still fur- 
ther increased my knowledge of life at 'Sconset and 
particularly of eel-bobbing. Here it is: 

"Sconset, July 14, 1880. 
" Dear PaPx^: — 

I should have written you before, but Chet. Clark 
made me promise that I would write him first, so I 
wrote him a long letter that would do for all the rest 
of the boys, Sunday, and I was so tired I could not 
write any more, and other days I have too much else 
to do. 

" Yesterday we had a splendid surf in the afternoon. 
I went in swimming three times. Eliott went in a lit- 
tle way in the morning. In the afternoon the waves 
were seven or nine feet high. You had to look out 



BOYS AND EELS 25 

and not let them tumble you, but it was boss fun rid- 
ing up and down on the waves near where they broke. 
" Last Friday Kirk White and I went bobbing for 
eels. As you may not know how it is done, I will ex- 
plain. You have to string about four feet of worms on 
some strong thread and loop it up and tie a fish-line 
and sinker to it. Then you eat your supper, take 
your candle-lantern (when you haven't got a better 
one) and some crackers by way of lunch, or grub, 
just as you may call it, and then walk about two miles 
and hire a boat, for all night if you want it, for twenty 
cents, and then, as it happened to be the case with us, 
lie down and read till dark if not so already. When 
dusk, not before, though, because the perch will raise 
havoc with your bob, you let your bob within about 
four inches of the bottom and pull them in. But it 
is a great deal more fun and more exciting than fish- 
ing for trout, for two reasons, — one, because ten out 
of twenty drop off when they are about half in the 
boat. They are quite gamey, too. Once in a while 
you get a big one, and they are as hard to pull in as 
the biggest brook trout you ever saw or heard of. I 
caught one of that description. It was the largest 
one caught around here this summer — at least Walter 
Folger says that he never saw one as big, and he has 
seen a great many. It was about eight inches around 
and about three feet long. You may not see how a 
bob without a hook can catch any. I don't either, but 



26 'SCOKSET COTTAGE LIFE 

they say their teeth catch in the threads; but I don't 
see how they can, they are so small. We caught to- 
gether with one bob about twenty-five in two hours. 
It was an awful job, catching them, to put them in the 
basket, they were so slippery. The basket had a big 
hole in it that I had to carry them home in, so I took 
oS my blue flannel-shirt and put in the bottom of the 
basket. It was so foggy that we could not see the 
Light-House, and we were within about half a mile of 
it, so we got lost and went tramping around for an 
hour or so before we knew where we Avere. The bas- 
ket came all to pieces and I had to tie the eels up in 
my blue shirt. When we got home I put the eels in 
our hogshead of water, and in the morning they were 
all dead and not fit to eat. I didn't think they would 
die, because one day when I went perch-fishing I 
caught an eel, and he lived a long time. 

" I went perch-fishing to-day, too, and had the good 
luck to catch the biggest perch I ever saw. We caught 
about 80 in all in a little while. I am commencing to 
think this is a pretty good place after all, but not near 
as good as the Xorth Woods. I find something to do 
most every day. One day I went up in the Light- 
House. Another day I went hunting. There isn't 
much hunting yet but there will be pretty soon. Will 
you send some tar-oil by Aunt Mamie to use when we 
go camping ? The mosquitoes are terrible thick out 
by the ponds and we want a good lot. A piece of a 



BOYS AXD EELS 27 

whale came ashore a while ago. I would have written 
this letter better, but I thought you would rather have 
a long one and not have it written so well. It would 
take me too long to copy it nice. 

Your affectionate son 

Ned." 

— As to the eels in the hogshead of rain-water, 
I heard further, — an epistolary wail from the distressed 
mother, chairman of the Committee of Ways and 
Means, who lamented more over the household loss 
than the boys did over the defunct eels. However, 
step by step, blunder by blunder, boys learn wisdom; 
and no doubt N^ed has engraved on his mental tablets, 
*' Never put eels in the household rain-water! " 



CHAPTER III 

A SECOND MIGRATION — NOTES BY THE WAY — HEADS 
AND SUB-HEADS 

pARLY in x\ugust I went on to Xantucket to join 
my family for the vacation I had promised to 
spend with them. A night ride to Boston; a few 
hours by rail to Wood's Holl, by the Old Colony Rail- 
road, whirling past frequent villages and manufactur- 
ing towns, then into a wild and wooded region, out 
again along the eastern shore of Buzzard's Bay, past 
many a delightful nook where summer cottages are 
clustering by the peaceful waters of the Bay; — and 
then comes the charm and delight of the sail (if a 
steamer does actually " sail ") out into the sea and the 
blue waves, all beauteous and holiday-like at this 
vacation season. 

Soon the green shores of Martha's Vineyard cast off 
their veil of dimness and rise up clear and well- 
defined. One sees at a glance why " Vineyard " be- 
came a part of the name of this " Emerald Isle ". 

(28) 



A SECOND MIGRATION — XOTES BY THE WAY 29 

The steamer swings around to the eastward of the 
northerly point and approaches the Camp-Meeting 
Wharf. Many of our fellow-passengers leave us here, 
for it is the height of the camp-meeting season and 
worshipers tind it easy to be zealous and self-sacrific- 
ing, even to dwell in tabernacles, when heaven and 
earth, almanac and business all harmonious unite in 
extending a call to the hot and dusty cities to come 
up hither and worship and be comfortable. 

Hardly half a mile below is Oak BluSs, or Cottage 
City, the marvel of the Island, where wealth and ex- 
quisite taste have built a fairy city for summer loiter- 
ing and invigorating indolence. With some ado, for 
the tide is running counter to our purpose, we grapple 
and hold to the wharf, while passengers leave as and 
others come on board, and a multitude of visitors sit 
in the pavilion over the approaches of the landing 
gazing at us, or struggle down among the shouting 
porters and quiet baggage-men to shake hands with 
some acquaintance among us. 

The lines are cast off, the steamer's head swings 
slowly around, the throb and rumble begin again, and 
we are off for Nantucket, two hours away, right out 
to sea and below the horizon. The ocean is in good 



30 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

mood; the sun in its afternoon glory is warm enough, 
but the gentlest of sea-breezes coming in upon us 
from the broad Atlantic is like a cooling beverage for 
refreshment. All the senses are lulled to luxurious 
rest, and we would be content to sail on under the 
summer sky through an endless day like this. Two of 
us, rocked in the same cradle long ago (the old cradle 
now at peace in a garret), are seated together on the 
upper-bow deck in the shade of the pilot-house, and 
we gaze, and dream, and drink the air, and hear the 
gentle whispers of the sea; while ever and anon we 
peer into the distance along the horizon line where 
sea and sky mingle in such harmony of color that we 
hardly know where sea ends and sky begins, peering 
to detect the first faint line of the low clif s of Xan- 
tucket. 

Muskegat Island is at length sighted, and then 
Tuckernuck, — jagged fragments left over after Nan- 
tucket was finished, or else wrongfully rent from it by 
the remorseless sea after Xature had finished her work 
and pronounced it " very good ". Our hearts throb 

quicker, for there are our , but, no, an old traveler 

corrects us as we utter our joyful exclamation; and we 
fall to dreaming again of 'Sconset and the cottageful 
of kindred waiting there to greet us in the old fashion, 



A SECOND MIGRATIOX — NOTES BY THE WAY 31 

— wondering, too, down in our hearts, if it isn't just 
possible that this treacherous ocean over which we are 
sailing so peacefully has, in some other mood, opened 
its ponderous jaws and swallowed down Xantucket 
Island, 'Sconset, cottage, kindred and all! 

By and by the horizon grows unsteady, wavers, is 
jagged, — and sharp eyes detect land! Xantucket is 
safe, for there at length rises " the Cliff ". That 
wonderful water-tank on stilts next catches our eyes; 
soon after church spires thrust their javelin points 
above the bluff from the still hidden town that lies 
just around yonder head-land; a light house; "the 
bell buoy; " and as the steamer carefully feels its way 
over the bar, along its narrow path, the town of Xan- 
tucket itself, sitting on its amphitheatrical seats 
around the harbor, flashes in the sunlight upon us. 

It was with me a case of "love at first sight ". 
Before we had swung around Brant Point and were 
safely at the long wharf, I had pledged heart and hand 
to the queenly capital of the Island. The constancy 
of my affection, after the crucial test of familiarity 
assures me that the love though sudden was wisely 
discerning from the first. Indeed, nothing can be 
more delightful than this quaint, quiet, beautiful little 



32 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

town as it appears to one sailing into the capacious 
harbor for the first time. 

At the wharf there was the usual hurrah and con- 
fusion. They say it is a modern innovation in Nan- 
tucket — this noise and hurry — the result of an invasion 
of hackmen and other barbarians from " the Conti- 
nent". However, we saw upon the hat of an honest 
looking, serious faced and quiet man the one word 
that concerned us — " Siasconset " (the word of the 
map makers and " foreigners " but used, no doubt, 
as a concession to the ignorance of new comers), and 
to him we clung with one hand while the other grasped 
the peace offering (a basket of peaches for the boys), 
until he promised to see us, luggage and all, safely 
transferred across the island that very night. 

It was nearly dark when, after many delays, we 
finally set out along the wide sandy road of parallel 
ruts over the moors, away to 'Sconset. The seven and 
a half miles were long ones, and the ghostly mile- 
stones passed slowly in a most straggling and discour- 
aged procession as we moved on toward our destina- 
tion. The black and stunted jack-pines that bordered 
the road for a portion of the way looked like bandits 
awaiting some secluded and gloomy gorge to perpe- 
trate foul murder upon us and atrocious confiscation of 



A SECOI?^D MIGRATION — NOTES BY THE WAY 33 

our bags. The chill of the damp sea-air closed one 
mouth after another — all except Jehu's — long before 
we reached the elevation from which the star of San- 
katy Light was discernible and where we caught the 
first twinkle of the little 'Sconset, whither the star 
pointed us on our way. 

Down the hill we toiled in the much vexed sand of 
the narrowing road, Jehu more vehemently belaboring 
his steed as we approached the end of our journey. 
Down the one broad avenue we rattled, over the pebbly 
and no longer sandy way, until at the very foot of the 
street, almost at the edge of the bluff where in the 
dim light we seemed about to run down a little white 
box of a house, the horse made a short, sharp turn in- 
to a lane — and we were there ! So were the family — 
so were the neighbors who were expecting the arrival 
of the "husband", that phenomenon which is often 
more conspicuous at 'Sconset for its absence than its 
presence. 

The " joint head" was again united, and all the lit- 
tle " sub-heads " were as happy about it as — as was 
the happy father. The dreams by the evening fire- 
light of the library were already being realized ; and 
the great waves, beating on the shore, were sounding 
out their deep, solemn Amen! 



CHAPTER IV 

FIRST VIEWS — OCEAN — 'SCOI^^SET — COTTAGE 
SLEEPY HOLLOW 

TN the early morning after my arrival, I went out up- 
on the bluff back of our cottage to look upon the 
ocean whose subdued roar had mingled with our eve- 
ning greetings and with all my dreams, and which 
broke upon the silent morning hour like echoing thun- 
der among the distant hills. A dweller inland all my 
life, and seldom getting more than glimpses of the 
sea, this vast, restless and moody realm of waters is 
always a solemn mystery to me. Its power and possi- 
bilities, its boundless expanse, its moaning and thun- 
derous booming along the shore, its majestic, swelling 
waves rolling in from beyond the vision's ken, always 
fill me with unspeakable emotions. 

I had now come to sit down at the feet of this mas- 
ter of all the passions, to study its secret and probe 
its heart, if possible, and to enjoy with simplicity and 
in fulness, all the sensations that it might excite with- 

(34) 



FIRST VIEWS — 'SCONSET 35 

in me. On this morning not a breath was stirring, 
but the thunder of the surf, that had mingled with 
my dreams, was sounding all along the shore, and like 
serried ranks with martial music marching home from 
victorious battle-fields, the tireless and ceaseless waves 
were coming in, rank upon rank, wave upon wave, 
and breaking in seething foam upon the beach. 

Breakfast broke the spell and revery; after which 
the tables were turned — I was the beach, and with 
lively demonstrations of delight the children dashed 
upon me, broke all over me, climbed upon me, and 
had merrier sport than ever had the serious and savage 
waves I had been gazing on, dashed they against rock 
and beetling crag or upon smooth and sandy beach ; 
and the music of childish shout and laughter was 
richer to my ears just then than all the whisperings 
of the sea or the booming of the breakers. Indeed, I 
was a great favorite in the house, for a day or two- 
such is the idealizing and enhancing power of absence! 

I saw, however, by daylight, that the whole family 
group had been growing away from me. The lads 
were as strong and rugged as little Indian boys; the 
girl-baby was about as broad as she was long; and 
even the matron, with all her responsibilities, had 



36 'SCON'SET COTTAGE LIFE 

grown so young and blooming that I felt it was an un- 
fortunate and embarrassing mistake not to have 
brought along our marriage certificate to disabuse the 
honest sceptics who thought she was my grown-up 
daughter. 

" The family " now consisted of our own household 
of seven, and my niece and two sisters who had lodg- 
ings elsewhere. The cottage, a little one-story house 
with low ceilings and queer little rooms, shingle- 
sided, and odd m every feature internal and external, 
was as full as a bee-hive and a vast deal noisier. It 
was a marvel how we all got into it, and turned around 
when once in it, and why it didn't burst with its 
plethora of humanity. 

This same little fisherman's house, built low and 
strong to resist the sweeping gales and fierce tempests 
of winter, and shingled all over to keep out the driv- 
ing spray which would penetrate any other covering, 
is a type of all the houses of the original hamlet — the 
fisherman's 'Sconset. It stands twenty or thirty feet 
from the edge of the bluff, twenty feet below which 
the sand-beach extends a hundred yards or more to 
the water's edge where the summer breakers spend 
their force. In autumn and winter the waves fre- 



FIRST VIEWS — 'SCOXSET 37 

quently dash wildly across the stretch of sand against 
the bluff; and in their fury they have already carried 
off cottages built too near the edge. 

Original 'Sconset consists of about two hundred of 
these cottages built along three narrow parallel lanes 
or streets running along the bluff. The houses are in 
little enclosures, two or three in a group, with narrow 
cross-lanes, this arrangement having been adopted as 
a protection against a general conflagration, and also 
to allow free passage for everybody to and from the 
central town-pump. 

The town-pump itself groans and creaks night and 
day, for it supplies the whole population. One trem- 
bles to think what would happen if a valve should col- 
lapse. And as everybody must go or send to the pump 
daily, it becomes the best advertising medium in the 
whole village. Here you will find who has a " cottage 
to let", who has "lost" a bracelet or a pocket-book, 
when and where there is to be "preaching", and oc- 
casionally items of news from the outside world posted 
pro bono publico by some benevolent person. Indeed, 
that is a pump worth having on a sandy island with 
the " salt, salt, sea " all around it, with not a drop of 
compassion in all its tides. 



38 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

At least half of these fishermen's houses are occu- 
pied as "cottages" by the summer visitors, and by 
the fishermen during the fishing seasons, spring and 
autumn, and most of them are vacant in the winter 
when there is " nothing to live for" in 'Sconset. The 
owners of the cottages are mainly residents of the 
"town" — as Nantucket village is invariably desig- 
nated. After the first days of September have sent 
the children home to the schools, and the fathers and 
mothers back to their homes on the continent, and the 
summer birds have flown, the Xantucketer who has 
quietly staid in town goes out to 'Sconset with his 
family to enjoy his own vacation and take his ease in 
his own house. He will tell you that the summer vis- 
itors make a great mistake in going away so early, and 
that the months of September and October are the 
most delightful of the year. This accords fully with 
the experience of my own family who remained there 
through the month of September. After the "August 
Storm" the temperature is equable and agreeable for 
several weeks. 

It was years ago, however, that Xantucket discov- 
ered a delightful retreat in 'Sconset. The "town" 
itself is in the quiet and peaceful enjoyment of a 
serene old age, its mighty deeds all gone into history, 



isiss, ••m.'-fir^: 



'A 




FIRST VIEWS — 'SCONSET 39 

its whale fisheries a glory of the past, its population 
living on what it has done in olden times and upon its 
growing reputation as the most delicious summer re- 
sort anywhere on the coast. Yet the quietest seek a 
-deeper quiet, or at least the change of air and scene 
ourative and restful to body and spirit. The Nan- 
tucketer, believing loyally in his own country — this 
little island only about three or four miles wide and 
fourteen long — made 'Sconset his watering place. 

So it happens that here and there among the fisher- 
men's humble homes a more modern and ambitious 
house lifts its two-storied front, tempting Providence 
and the storms. So, also, it comes about that along 
the one broad street, and up the slight ascent on the 
road to Nantucket, the rich men of the Island, old 
sea-captains and merchants, built more pretentious 
cottages for their summer enjoyment. Later, as 
*' foreigners " found out the secret of 'Sconset, there 
sprang up the two hotels. The Atlantic House, and 
The Ocean View House, which are still modest and 
moderate. 

Also, a little south of the old village, along the bluff 
named Sunset Heights, is springing up a still later 
growth of cottages, half a dozen or so, built and owned 



40 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

by the residents of several different States. These 
command the finest views and are delightful resi- 
dences. We shall hear more of Sunset Heights before 
ten years shall pass — a new 'Sconset of wide and de- 
served fame. The blutf north of the village is witness- 
ing a similar growth and promises to be a fit com- 
panion wing to Sunset Heights. 

But there is quaint little original 'Sconset yet, with 
the diminutive, be-shingled, low-roofed fishermen's 
houses of days long gone by; and it is that which 
makes the charm of this sea-side resort unlike any- 
thing and everything else along the Atlantic coast. 
The " modern improvements " are yet and long will be 
externals — the heart will always be " Old 'Sconset ". 

There is no railroad to 'Sconset. By and by there 
will be. Xow no sound more fearful breaks the spell 
of the ocean's solemn moan than the blast of Captain 
Baxter's tin-horn announcing his arrival with the 
mail, or, when he sets forth to town, telling all 'Scon- 
set to hurry up with their letters and errands, for he is 
off in five minutes, — five minutes exactly by that big 
silver watch which, he says, General Grant gave him! 

Indeed, but for the summer visitor, big and little, 
Sleepy Hollow never was half so quiet as 'Sconset. 



FIRST VIEWS — ORIGINAL 'SCOXSET 41 

As to noise and bustle, it is Sunday all the while. 
There isn't a pavement to rattle a hoof or wheel upon, 
— the velvety turf makes no sound under your foot. 
Possibly Sunday is a busier day than all the rest of 
the week, for on Sunday there is in the little school- 
house a Quaker meeting or a Unitarian service, or, in 
one of the hotels religious exercises are conducted by 
some clerical visitor according to his own. creed. Of 
course, when one is hungry for religious instruction 
and solace he takes what he can get, whether it is cut 
and carved or dished after his own particular fashion 
or not. 

'Sconset of itself, it is plain to see, is not in the 
ordinary sense remarkable— indeed, its chief charm 
may be that it is not remarkable. But it sits by the 
ocean, which is always grand enough in any mood, and 
which, although old enough to have a fixed character, 
is full of new surprises and revelations of power and 
majesty. Safe on land, one delights to study the sav- 
age sea showing its white fangs as the rising wind 
buffets the crests of the running waves, or to scan the 
wild waste under the darkening storm clouds and see 
how out on " the rips " (the reefs) the white pillars 
of tossed waters leap up at the sky as if to snatch the 



42 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

lightnings out of the land of Jupiter and deliver 
them over to Neptune. 

But it is more to one's mind, I think, on a vacation, 
tired of the turmoil of town and men left behind, to 
lie on the 'Sconset bank a hundred yards away from 
the hiss and swash of waters mingled with the thun- 
derous throb of the breakers, of a calm day, and watch 
the oncoming of the regular and stately waves. One 
is never tired of that, I am sure. 

One of our household loved better, spreading a rug 
on the sand, to sit and half recline just out of the 
reach of the nimble water running up the sandy in- 
cline, and to both hear all the sounds and watch all 
the waves. She did this by the hour, day by day, 
gathering up into her heart all that the ocean had to 
say in all its moods to a most devoted admirer. The 
printed book was closed many a time that she might 
" go down on the beach " and read the myriad-leaved 
book of the sea; and best beloved voices could not 
detain her long from the voices — numerous-toned and 
tender as well as strong, no doubt, to her ear — of this 
new lover of hers who brought tales and sentiments 
from all lands and shores. My busy wife and my in- 
dolent and domestic self, as well as the Practical Sis- 



"down on the beach" 43 

ter, used to have our bit of fun over the new posses- 
sion of the maiden heart, — but she never heeded us if 
only wind and weather were right and ripe for her 
lover-tryst with the ocean. 

The ocean, however, is not all that humble 'Scon- 
set depends upon for its peculiar charm. Turn your 
back to the sea, and you will gaze upon something 
unlike anything you have seen elsewhere in this wide 
country — the moors! Is this little island, after all, an 
excerpt from bonnie old Scotland ? — a bit of her 
heathery moor-land ? That is what the learned trav- 
elers, in their enthusiasm, say; but I don't know. 
The low-rolling, brown and purple hills, treeless ex- 
cept where ragged little pines are planted, barren of 
nearly everything but a wild beauty of their own, — 
another sea, but so quiet and sombre! — the stretch and 
expanse as of a descended and upturned sky, cloud- 
ridged, and with a bewildering indefiniteness — these 
were what divided with the ocean our admiration 
and devotion. 

Years ago, one day, I was on a treeless prarie of the 
West. The vast level plain was unbroken by a single 
elevation, and the sky came down to it on every side 
like a hollow hemisphere of blue. We v/ere " out of 



44 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

sight of land ", and only the narrow ribbons of iron, 
straight as an arrow, over which we were whirling 
away out of one horizon into another, told us that 
mortal man had been there before. That was some- 
thing to see and feel, but it was hardly so impressive 
as the moors of the little sea-girt island of Xatucket. 

Some day later, when we traverse these fields of 
nature, we will look closer into the secret of this charm 
and dreamy mystery so delightfully off-setting and 
supplementing the impressiveness of the sea. 

Between my new-born impressions and enthusiasms, 
and the devoted attention of my boys who wanted me 
forthwith to see and do everything, and the over- 
whelming affection of the infant heiress of the family, 
who seemed to fear I might vanish out of sight, my 
first day at 'Sconset was fast becoming a busy one, 
when — alas! I began to grow unaccountably sleepy! 

'* It's always the way, the first few days," I was told. 

" You came to rest," my wife added, " and you 
shall sleep as often and as much as you like. If any- 
body thinks you are dull, I'll explain that you are a 
' new-comer '." 

The boys were called off, the little lady was in- 
veigled " do wnbeach to see ' wa-wa '," and I slept. 



SLEEPY HOLLOW 45 

When I awakened, one whose whole soul enjoyed 
'Sconset, and who, being " an older but not a better" 
admirer of the surroundings, felt that he was some- 
how responsible for the due intensity and correctness 
of my first impressions, besought me to walk with him 
to " Tom Xever's Head ", a good two miles away. I 
protested that I was indisposed to walk so far. Would 
I, then, take a stroll up toward Sankaty ? Xo, I 
thanked him, I would prefer not to, if he would ex- 
cuse me. I ought certainly, at least, to take a plunge 
in the surf, — it w^as very fine to-day, — would I not 
join him in that most excellent and healthful diversion ? 

" Alas, my dear sir, — I am very much obliged to 
you, — I appreciate and thank you for your kindness, 
— I hope to see and do all these things," exclaimed I 
in genuine desperation, " but, to tell you the humiliat- 
ing truth, I am as drowsy as an owl ! " 

" Oh — yes — I had forgotten that you came only 
yesterday." 

AYith kindly consideration he bade me good-after- 
noon; T glanced through the western windows and 
noted with satisfaction that the sun gave me two 
hours before tea; and I fell off again into a delicious 
'Sconset slumber. 



46 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

It was a typical experience; and as I was in pursuit 
of the typical I would not have missed it if I could. 
For several days, in the midst of all that was new and 
interesting, I slept inordinately and ate in proportion. 
Everybody to whom I confided the secret only laughed 
and said, " Oh, that's the story with us all when we 
first come here, — sea-air, you know." 

I thought even this was worth something to the 
worn-out men who came hither for rest and recupera- 
tion — to sleep, to eat, and then to eat and sleep again. 
The nervous, headache-y, dyspeptic toiler at office- 
desk, the head-weary of every calling, need these 
humble good things in their lives quite as vitally as a 
rejuvenation of their sentiments, a waking up of their 
enthusiasms or a kindling anew of youthful poetic fires, 
— but then at 'Sconset they may have all these and 
the slumber, too. 



CHAPTER V 

SURF-BATHING 

/^X the second day I was duly initiated into the 
surf-bathing of 'Sconset. At eleven o'clock, 
straggling down the bank and across the sands to the 
beach came the bathers, men, women, and children — 
in motley suits passing all description, fantastic and 
uncouth, neat and artistic, faded and forlorn, bright 
and gay, span new and clean, and mottled with cling- 
ing kelp, — costumes baggy, short in the extrimities, 
disguising beauty and giving ugliness a new horror, 
— dresses bewitching in the revelation of white arms 
and fair necks, — all sorts, indeed, and amazingly amus- 
ing to a fresh comer to 'Sconset. Down they came to 
the two or three chosen bathing-grounds, where a stout 
rope stretched over a support on. shore extended out 
forty or fifty feet to a barrel which sustained it and be- 
yond which it was firmly anchored, — a contrivance 
which gave confidence and courage to the most timid. 

Captain Gorham is there to see that no serious acci- 

(47) 



48 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

dent shall occur. He sits quietly on the bench on the 
beach, with his elbows on his knees, watching every 
movement, ready to spring to the rescue if there is a 
faint or a struggle. 

Into the surf the bathers dash, or timidly creep, and 
with feminine little shrieks running back from an in- 
coming big wave, or plunge headlong through the wall 
of water just before it breaks, — entering the water in 
as many ways, indeed, as there are characters and 
temperaments among the two-score bathers. 

The strong swimmers strike boldly out into the 
smooth and swelling waves beyond the surf and swim 
and float with tbe tide that runs up or down along 
the shore like a river current, and come back to the 
starting point and repeat the sport. Those who do not 
swim cling close to the rope and let the breakers dash 
against them, often overwhelming and burying them 
out of sight for an instant and disorganizing the line 
in a most tumultuous fashion. By jumping up with 
the rising waves some keep their heads above water and 
preserve their equilibrium. But sooner or later an 
unusually large wave oomes, and the whole line of 
bathers disappears. It is a matter of doubt then on 
which side of the rope they will severally re-appear. 



1^ 



l»r 




SURF-BATHING 49 

and whether feet will not come up where heads ought 
to be. It is then, too, that Captain Gorham, if not 
already in the water among them, is doubly alert and 
makes a rapid calculation of how many hands were 
clinging to the rope before the wave came and how 
many heads ought to re-appear. But, with the pro- 
verbially tenacious grip of drowning men these ven- 
turesome non-swimmers, many of them slender women 
and timid children, almost always " hang on " to the 
cable and in the end come right-side up. 

I swim. I am thankful for that. And so I dash 
boldly out to sea until the tide catches me in its strong 
embrace. I feel the sweeping power against which I 
can make no progress, and realize how insignificent 
and helpless, after all, the " man overboard '' in a 
storm must be. Ah! but it is rare sport to dash into 
the wall of water, and an instant after to emerge calm 
and serene above the waves beyond, — the roar and fury 
of the waters all behind you, — to float quietly along 
just outside of the line of the breaking, foaming, and 
rushing water, floating on the swelling bosom of the 
wave as safe as if swinging in a hammock, riding the 
ocean-swell as the sea-bird floats. 

I never recovered, however, from my first shock at 



50 'SCONSET COTTA.GE LIFE 

seeing the children running down the smooth sand, 
following the receding waves and then scampering 
back as the breakers heaved groat floods of water after 
them — and often threw them down, dashing them 
" high and dry " upon the beach. It was sufficiently 
trying to my nerves to see anybody who could not 
swim, — man, woman or child, — clinging to a swaying 
rope and battling with the great roaring and pounding 
breakers; but the children were my special daily terror. 
I delivered many energetic domestic lectures upon the 
whole subject, but they all, of my own household, — 
where my word ought to have been law, — big and little, 
only laughed at me and said that it was because I could 
swim that I was frightened about them. The one an- 
swer to my fears was the reassuring fact that no bather 
at 'Sconset had ever yet been drowned. When, one 
day, they drew the senseless form of a young woman 
out of the surf and laid her upon the sand, I said " It 
has come at last — there must always be a first case." 
But that was only a faint, and not drowning, and no 
harm was done. 

Here a little later, like the star actor upon the stage, 
come " the athletes! " — a half dozen young fellows in 
tights and magnificently built. Cart-wheels and sum- 



I 



SURF-BATHING 51 

mersaults on the sand as a prologue, and then, as a big 
wave comes rolling in from the sea and lifts its great 
front for a Samsonian destruction, — just as it curves 
its crest and bends its great shoulders, about to dash 
headlong with crushing force prone upon the sloping 
beach, — the athletes with shout and leap, the whole 
line of them, rush down the sands and plunge head- 
long into the liquid wall, out oi sight I 

Ah! there goes, too, a light-haired, scantily attired, 
brown-bodied little fellow, my Ned! — right among 
these athletes! I don't cry out; the women suppress 
a shriek; but I hold my breath hard for an instant, 
for I have not before seen this young fresh-water lad 
in the ocean; — and now, out in the smooth water the 
light-haired head comes up with the rest, and the 
strong young arms strike out in a masterly way that 
makes me proud of him. Later, when he performed 
the same feat with waves nine feet high, in a storm 
which reduced the surf-bathers to a few daring ones, 
I had no fear for him, but wondered what a boy 
wouldn't do. 

There was one magnificent swimmer. Colonel S., of 
Detroit, who for a whole hour, twice a day, in the 
wildest weather, struck boldlv out beyond the limits 



52 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

set by the most venturesome, and swam with the tide 
for a quarter of a mile, then walked up the shore to 
his starting point and repeated, time after time, the 
perilous sport. When the clouds darkened the sky 
and the wind howled and the surf roared its loudest, 
and " the rips " out near the gloomy horizon were 
throwing up great white leaping columns of water, 
this sight of a man's head — nothing more — far out 
from shore, rising and falling with the big waves, was 
something not soon to be forgotten. 

Of course we made the surf-bath the central fact of 
the day. Everything that happened or was done was 
quite subordinate in importance to the bath. Our 
cottage was just on the brow of the bluff opposite the 
chief bathing resort, which was reached by a stair-way 
down the bank and a narrow temporary plank- walk 
across the sand. So we used apartments connected 
with our convenient dwelling as dressing-rooms, and 
marched down in single file to the beach for the daily 
plunge and tumble. It was a spectacle to behold, they 
said (and the brilliant and witty Miss Xorris laughed 
inordinately at the sight), — the tall man leading down 
to the water his little wife, three other ladies, Ned, 
and last of all brown little " Ell.", in the costumes 
of the occasion. 



SURF-BATHING — UNDERTOW? 53 

When we marched back again it was a bedraggled 
procession, unmindful of the order of our going, with 
wraps about us to protect from the wind; and some- 
times (only on a few occasions, however), it required 
some effort to satisfactorily establish the all important 
" reaction ". The boys managed that problem easily 
enough by lying in the sand under the sun's hot rays 
by the hour, with brief dashes into the surf; and they 
grew fat and brown and tough under the treatment. 

After a particularly boisterous experience in the surf 
one morning, one of the ladies of the house, who had 
been badly shaken up by the breakers, said with vigor, 
" I quite agree with you that it is dangerous for ladies 
and children to bathe here as they do,— the undertow 
is very strong." 

" Undertow ? Xot a bit of it! It's the knocking 
about, and pitching heels over head, and the rapid de- 
scent of the beach to deep water that's dangerous," 
said I, Avith full assurance and with the animation I 
felt in at length securing a convert to my opinion. 

'' Well, I have had some experience— a good deal of 
it—in surf-bathing at various places,— you haven't and 
/ say this is the strongest undertow I ever encoun- 
tered," replied she with some spirit, and with just the 
least bit of haughtiness. 



54 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

" What do you call ' undertow', anyhow?" asked 1 
with a secret confidence that I was now about to 
utterly vanquish her. There's nothing like a definition 
to crush a woman with, especially when she is the one 
to furnish it. 

'* Undertow ? Why, when the water of a spent wave 
rushes down the beach again to meet the next wave, — 
that's what I call ' undertow ', and it's particularly 
strong on this 'Sconset beach." 

" Pshaw! " said I, eagerly; that's a backward-flow, 
and not an undertow at all. If the water in flowing 
back made an under-current and went under instead 
of against the breast of the incoming wave, — that's 
what I should call an ' undertow '. But it doe» 
nothing of the sort here, — it simply rushes down to 
the wave and is dashed bodily back again. I stood 
to-day just outside of the comb of the surf and tried 
to detect any evidence of this under-current, and 
there wasn't a bit of it. There was plenty of ' over- 
flow', I assure you, and I went out of sight several 
times in my pursuit of knowledge with a rope in my 
hands. But I got the fact I was after — there isn't any 
' undertow '." 

" Let us see the dictionary then — perhaps you won't. 



SURF-BATHING — UNDERTOW ? 55 

dispute that," said she, thoroughly aroused; "possi- 
bly your brief salt-water experience is not of so great 
value, after all, as you seem to think it is. — There! " 
as she opened the book to the word, — " hear the con- 
clusion of the whole matter, — ' Undertow, a nautical 
term for any decided under-current of water — ' " 

"Yes! Yes!" I interrupted; "just my notion 
exactly." 

" Hear the rest of it, if you please," she continued, 
" ' The backward flow of a wave. ' I am right either way, 
but I am sure I am right according to the second 
definition." 

" And I am sure," said I, with a little of the air 
and tone of a stump orator approaching a climax, 
" that when people talk of ' undertow ' as a thing of 
danger at bathing resorts, they mean a ' decided under- 
current of water ' that trips people's feet from under 
them and sucks them remorsely down under the waves 
and out into the depths, hopelessly dead and drowned. 
And I maintain on all my experience and observation 
here, and on the concurrent testimony of all the 'Soon- 
set people, that there isn't anything here that deserves 
the name or fame of ' undertow '." 

" And I maintain just the contrary," insisted she, 
a little sharply. 



56 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

Of course I was ri^ht — I knew I was. But I 
never could convince her; and on this occasion, with 
a pantomimic flourish of my fingers, I only said, at 
the end, " Scissors! " Whereat she laughed — and 
the war was over. After that, our controversy never 
got further than " Undertow! " — " Backward flow! '* 
— " Undertow! "— " Scissors! " 

To be sure, she took a wicked pleasure, occasionally, 
in conversing in my presence with old habitues of the 
sea-shore upon the general subject, and gave me many 
a shy look of merry triumph when they agreed with 
her that " the undertow was very strong ". As it is 
a cardinal point of my philosophy never to waste 
breath on obstinate error, I always refrained from en- 
lightening these self-deluded persons. 

Here, at least, I have the last word, and it must be 
an honest one — There is no undertow at ^ Sconset ! 



CHAPTER VI 

ISLAND WA NDERIXGS — BLUE-FISHIXG — COD-FISHIXG 



N 



ED was always eager to show me his favorite re- 
sorts, and I often accompanied my young guide 
about the island. One afternoon we walked along the 
bluff by a well-worn foot-path to Sankaty Light-House, 
situated on a bank eighty-five feet above the level of 
the sea. Out of a corner of the snug little house 
occupied by the keeper and his assistant and their 
families, springs the high tower of solid masonry 
which is surmounted by its brilliant crown of glass. 
This revolving light is one of the finest on the coast; 
and gleaming like a star and then passing into partial 
eclipse, and gleaming again, it not only warns and 
guides the mariner on this dangerous sea, but also 
points out to the belated traveler his way along the 
bewildering paths over the moors. It is the pride of 
the Xantucketer, who realizes better than the home- 
staying dwellers inland can the full meaning of a ship- 
wreck w^hich this friendly light aims to prevent. 

(57) 



58 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

A walk of a mile further in the gloaming brought 
us to Sachacha Pond, about a mile long and three- 
fourths as wide, and perhaps the largest body of fresh 
water on the island. Xo stream enters it, but the 
low-lying hills sloping down to its shores pour into 
this reservoir the rain-fall of Spring and Autumn. 
It is separated from the ocean itself by a low strip of 
sandy beach; and it is possible that the sea-water 
filters through the bank. Sometimes, in the stormy 
season, the larger waves dash across the long barrier 
into the pond. The water is slightly salt, but not 
sufficiently so to exterminate the fresh-water fish that 
thrive in it in great abundance. 

It was here that the boys " went a-perching " and 
" eel -bobbing ". The perch are quite unlike the fish 
of that name in inland waters, and in shape are very 
much like the black bass. They are delicious eating 
and in great demand at the 'Sconset table. They are 
also favorites with the shark-fishers as being a most 
attractive lure for the ravenous monsters roaming 
about on the adjacent shoals. 

Sankaty Light was by this time gleaming against the 
darkened sky, and we hastened homeward along the 
lofty bluffs. The surf showed its white fangs down 



ISLAND WANDERINGS 59 

below and seemed to bite and gnaw at the beach, 
rushing at it fiercely and then retreating, like some 
savage beast attacking a formidable enemy. We 
fancied it might be snarling and gnashing its teeth, 
while the huge dark body behind writhed in rage. 
But all the subordinate sounds were stilled by the dis- 
tance — the hissing and seething of the waters on the 
sand — and we heard only that ever recurring boom! 
boom! all along the shore, coming up to our ears out 
of the growing darkness with crescendo force and then 
ceasing for an instant, then coming again, with tireless 
succession and regularity. Would it never cease its 
roaring! — this restless sea, beating from the beginning 
of all time to the end of all time upon the steadfast 
shore! Is it never weary, day nor night! Is it sleep- 
less for ever! 

The evening breeze from the ocean, delightfully cool 
and invigorating, was whispering in our ears its tales 
of travel over the wild waters; the darkness was 
deepening until the path on the fickle edge of the 
bluff was becoming uncertain to our eyes. We 
hastened our steps, and soon the twinkling lights in 
the windows of the village apj^eared, and the cheerful 
blaze of lanterns hung in the narrow streets before 



60 'SCOXSET COTTAGE LIFE 

the houses guided us to our door. We pulled the 
latch-string aud entered our cheery little cottage — 
and I had faithfully and delightfully done one of the 
things set down in the 'Sconset curriculum. Our 
walk of five miles along the coast, forth and back, was 
almost as invigorating as a surf-bath. 

One of the sources of revenue to the resident 'Scon- 
seter is catching blue-fish out on the shoals and sup- 
plying the hotels and private tables with the catch 
fresh from the water. It was always interesting to 
see the fisherman accomplish the perilous feat of put- 
ting his dory — a large and wonderfully seaworthy row- 
boat — out through the surf, and beaching it again on 
his return. Getting the dory part way down the beach 
and watching for the coming of just the proper sort 
of wave, (I could never quite catch his secret), when it 
came he gave a powerful push, leaped into the stern 
of the boat, seized the oars and by a single vigorous 
stroke was beyond the line of breakers before the next 
wave came, and riding safely like a duck on the long 
Atlantic swells. Rowing or spreading his sail, off he 
went to his fishing, a mile or more from shore, as if 
he had done the most ordinary thing in the world. 

His return was managed with no less skill and with 



BLUE-FISHING 61 

possibly more danger. I have seen him in a heavy sea 
riding up and down, just outside of the surf -line and 
in such proximity to it that he seemed momentarily 
about to be dashed ashore, looking long now out over 
the heaving and rolling waves as the swell lifted him 
out of the trough of the sea to the peak of the minia- 
ture motmtain of water, then quickly along the shore 
and the line of furious breakers, for a full quarter- 
hour,— then suddenly by a quick stroke throwing the 
bow around tow^ard land, pulling with all his might 
for an instant, and riding swiftly in on the crest of a 
wave, right up on the beach. I was always at fault 
there, too, in determining which wave it was that 
would bring him thus safely through the dangerous 
surf. For all that I could ever see, one wave was as 
good — or as bad — as another for such a landing. 

The fishing depended very much on the condition of 
the tide, the movements of which had a stimulating 
effect upon the roamers of the deep. Sometimes the 
fisherman anchored his boat half a mile — and from 
that to a mile — from shore, at other times spread a 
sail which held the boat against the tide. There are 
two accepted modes of blue-fishing — "trolling" from 
a yacht under full sail, (the faster you go, the better), 



62 'SCOXSET COTTAGE LIFE 

and by the " heave and haul " method when in a row- 
boat or at anchor. The latter is practiced at 'Sconset 
for the excellent reason that there are no sailing craft 
on this coast, which latter fact, also, follows from 
there being no harbor to anchor in. Only such boats 
can be used as can be successfully beached. 

To heave and haul for blue-fish — whirling the heavy 
" drail " until it acquires the right momentum and 
then sending it out thirty, forty, fifty, or even sixty 
feet, drawing it rapidly in again, hand over hand, — is 
not only hard work for an amateur, but without much 
practice it is very inefficiently done. The original and 
resident fisherman, however, believes it is the only 
genuine fishing. Trolling he considers the lazy device 
of inexperts and landsmen. 

ssow and then the blue-fisherman captures a young 
shark off the shore, and he might at any time load 
his dory, if it would carry them, with lusty fellows of 
that genus nine or ten feet long, if he should address 
them with the proper inducements by way of appro- 
priate tackle and bait. Very little is said on that 
topic, however, for occasionally a bather has scruples 
in regard to sharks, difficult to overcome by logic, al- 
though for that matter nobody has ever had a " bite " 
in a bathing-suit. 



COD-FISHING 63 

'Sconset was formerly one of the two principal fish- 
ing stations on the island for cod-fishing; and that 
industry still employs many men for portions of the 
year. Of this the summer visitor sees nothing. The 
cod-fish have an aristocratic way of going oS for the 
summer to watering-places of their own, heyond the 
reach of business and perplexities of all sorts which 
possibly vex even the phlegmatic cod. The local fisher- 
man tells you the simple fact is that for comfort's sake 
they abandon the shoals in warm weather and seek the 
cool and agreeable depths just outside the fishing- 
grounds, until it is again cool enough near shore to 
suit their instinct and fancy. 

But 'Sconset sees another sight in October when the 
cod come in upon their favorite feeding grounds. The 
little village is filled with strong, fearless men and 
busy industry. Boats and fishing tackle are over- 
hauled and put in order, the drying racks along the 
bluffs are repaired, and some fine day it is shouted 
along the highways and by-ways of the town, " The 
cod are in! " Then the work begins in earnest, and 
is continued until the autumnal storms and the sever- 
ity of the cold put a stop to operations. In March 
the fishing is again carried on until the warmth of the 



64 'SCON'SET COTTAGE LIFE 

comparatively shallow water sends the cod off again 
into deeper water. 

The life of 'Sconset, Spring and Fall, and the life 
of 'Sconset in Mid-winter are probably as unlike as 
can well be imagined. The " cottages " of the sum- 
mer — the self-same "fishermen's huts" of March and 
October — what diverse tales they would tell if they 
had mem.ory and tongue, and what different definitions 
of " life " would they give! 



CHAPTER VII 

'SCONSET PEOPLE 

T^HE resident people of 'Sconset (what few there 
are) are genuine good people, if a summer's ex- 
perience with them is to be trusted. It is true they 
are coming to have an eye to business in their dealings 
with strangers who are supposed to spend money freely 
in the vacation days, but they have not yet learned 
the arts and wiles of making the visitor bleed at every 
pore. They are quite content to live and let live, and 
seem to be as honest and conscientious in their transac- 
tions as any class you will meet with in any region uu- 
vexed by the summer tourist. 

They are in the main the families of retired seamen 
or fishermen, or descendants of the famous whalemen 
of ]N"antucket who have seen perils by sea, face to 
face, that have sobered them for life; who have been 
self-reliant so long that it is in the blood and bone of 
the whole Xantucket population to be too self-poised 
and self-respectful to do a mean or unworthy act. Be- 

(65) 



66 

sides, there is a strain of the good blood of the original 
pilgrims to this island in all the inhabitants that does 
not fade out, wash out, nor die out. 

There is sturdy old " Captain Baxter", the express- 
man; stage proprietor, agent and driver all in one; 
the self -constituted postmaster; the blower of the 
morning and evening tin-horn, announcing his depar- 
ture to town and return; Baxter with the famous ship's 
figure-head in his door-yard and rare old clock in his 
dining-room; — keen and witty Captain Baxter, the 
drawer of the long bow in his remarkable narratives; 
— the old sailor Captain of many a wild experience on 
the sea, who will spin you a marvelous yarn, but whose 
fancy runs away with his fact until you are incredu- 
lous of fact as well as of fancy ; — Baxter ever-so-old and 
yet as spry as a boy, despite a little jerk of his legs 
as if he had rejuvenated them with steel springs; the 
only and original Baxter, good-naturedly esteemed one 
of the most useful men on the island. 

Just beyond the big town-pump is the one little 
" store " of 'Sconset, where, upon a pinch, you may 
find stationery by the penny's worth, needles and 
thread, candles and cod-fish, fearful cigars and vil- 
lainous tobacco, ancient peaches and modern candy, 





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'SCONSET PEOPLE (;7 

brooms and pails, and a few other necessaries of life. 
There you will find a cheerful little old man— or, read 
the "notice" on the closed door and hunt for him— 
whom all the children with wise discernment love. 
He it is who has the honor of being the father of the 
Eev. Phoebe Hanaford who will preach a sermon to 
you when she comes to 'Sconset that will do you good 
to hear. 

There was a certain delightful elderly man who 
brought us the freshest vegetables from his garden 
every morning, gave us honest count and good meas- 
ure, and kept the account as faithfully as if he had 
taken the iron-clad oath,— Folger by name. There 
being upon the island uncounted " Folgers " and 
" Coffins " and " Macys ", it is no disclosure of ident- 
ity to mention this one by name. This particular 
Folger was an old whaleman, and had on his various 
voyages in distant seas kept a remarkably well-written 
and interesting journal, illustrated in the margin with 
skilfully drawn pen-and-ink sketches of whales, black- 
fish and porpoises in ths attitudes in which they were 
seen at the dates opposite. I begged the volume to 
read, and followed the simple story of the whaleman's 
life of forty years or more ago — the days of calm, of 



68 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

spirited sailing, of sighting and pursuing and captur- 
ing whales, of the inevitable " man overboard " — with 
an interest only intensified by the plain, matter-of-fact 
style of the record. 

Many a time, too, I led him to talk of the old 
times; and as he lacked the peculiar " fancy " of the 
versatile Baxter, I greatly enjoyed his homely narra- 
tives. It seemed like coming very close to the grave 
dangers and severe hardships and sad disasters of the 
long, weary voyages of the whalemen, to hear the 
story told in such a direct and realistic way. 

" One time," said he, in one of these talks, " we 
had been off in the Pacific four years, and hadn't 
heard a word from home in all that time. When we 
came back, just as soon as we dropped anchor, I got 
ashore and went straight to my father's house. You 
see I hadn't got married then and was living at father's. 
When I got there, I went right in, anxious enough, as 
you may know, to find out what had happened in all 
those four years, and the first one I saw was father, — 
and then I saw a woman that I didn't know. ' Father,' 
said I, a little scared like, ' where's mother ? ' 
' Your mother,' said he, ' died two years ago last 
March.' I tell you, it was hard. I hadn't heard the 



'SCONSET PEOPLE 69 

first word. I guessed the rest, — that woman was his 
second wife! That was all right enough — but, you 
see, my mother was dead and buried and father was 
married again — and I had to take the whole of it in, 
all at once. I tell you, I wished then I was back on 
the Pacific." 

The bronzed and hairy old veteran of the sea and of 
that wilder life in the early days of California, when 
hundreds of Xantucketers went off to the gold mines, 
seemed, as he told me the story, not even yet to have 
recovered from the shock of that long ago day. 

The good man had a horse — a very sedate one— and 
a " box-cart ", one of the peculiar institutions of the 
island, a four-wheeled affair with square box on springs, 
and an iron step behind by which to ascend the exalt- 
ing thing. These we frequently chartered for our 
family cruises over the moors and to various notable 
points on the island. 

" She's a lazy beast," said Folger, at the first hir- 
ing, " but a good one. If she won't go, hit her a lirk ! 
she needs it." 

It was an honest characterization of the animal, 
throughout, and we did not hesitate to obey the own- 
er's injunction, with gratifying results. 



70 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

Then there was the excellent old lady who made 
cakes and pies and baked bread and fancy things, 
all of them good, for the cottagers who did not have 
the facilities or the courage for such undertakings. 
With her, however, as with the rest of the purveyors 
to our comfort, one needed to use a little tact and a 
deal of politeness. You don't give " orders " in 
'Sconset — you politely make "requests". These 
people need and want an honest living, and you are 
the most convenient material at hand out of which to 
make it. But they are descended from blood that 
ruled the wave and humbled the leviathan, and the 
spirit of the Norseman was never prouder than is 
theirs. They have great self-respect — none too much, 
no doubt- -and if they perform services which you 
have been accustomed to think menial, they do them 
with a spirit that dignifies both them and their work. 

It was young Horace Folger who caught blue-fish 
for our table. The whales were all caught out of the 
Atlantic before he was born, perhaps; but I would 
wager his keen eye, quick hand and trained skill in 
handling a dory, against a whale's life, any time. He 
is a born whaleman, albeit he doth " heave and haul '* 
out on the shoals to the end that the summer dweller 



'SCONSET PEOPLE 71 

at 'Sconset may feast upon one of the most delicious 
of fishes that ever melted in the mouth of the epicure. 

The milkman — whom the little fair-haired lady in 
blue flannel soon came to know as the " mook-mon " 
— drove over from Quidnit, from Sankaty, every morn- 
ing; and on special request brought also long-necked 
clams and lobsters. It was for some days a mystery 
with me how milk was extracted from the sandy and 
sterile soil of the island. But a little wider observa- 
tion discovered grazing fields near the ponds where 
a diligent cow, with patient spirit and perseverence, 
might accomplish something satisfactory; and various 
large enclosures of whole farms in a field where fine- 
looking sheep were feeding in the heather or browsing 
among the stunted bushes. I also found here and 
there, near the village, cornfields where seed-corn and 
fish planted together in the hills outwitted Nature, 
who meant that corn should not grow on a sand-bank. 

The few men of the original stock whom I saw at 
'Sconset impressed me as having much of the unlet- 
tered wisdom of experience and of long observation 
and reflection upon all the various phenomena of 
nature. They had seen danger on the briny deep. 
They had been obliged to study wind and weather, to 



72 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

predict and prepare for storms, to interpret the phases 
and aspects of sky and sea, to snuff mischief in the 
sweet south wind, and to forecast imprisonment on 
shore in their snug, be-shingled cottages when the east 
wind should come in laden with fog and storm. It is 
not fair to say that all weather-wise men have an owl- 
ish air, as if they were on intimate terms with the 
planets and the unseen powers of the upper realm, for 
these modest old sailors do not — they are too sincere 
for that nonsense. 



CHAPTER VIII 

SUNDAY AT 'SCONSET 

\1 /HEX Sunday came, the resounding sea continued 
the mighty anthem which made all the week 
holy-days and 'Sconset a cathedral town. It was 
difficult to make any distinction. There was no ex- 
ceptionally early rising on any day, and to lie abed on 
Sunday morning to a later hour would have been only 
a self imposed penance. It is also one of the tradi- 
tions of the place — among the summer folk — that a 
neglect of the surf-bath on Sunday would be a viola- 
tion of good hygiene. And so the bathers, in slower 
procession, more sedately plunge and tumble in the 
turbulent waters, the ladies laugh and scream less 
loudly at the rope when the breakers dash them hither 
and yon, and the athletes omit the preliminary cart- 
wheel and handspring. 

However, to make sure of distinguishing this from 
other days, a party of us duly attended the " Quaker 
Meeting " held at the school-house in the morning, 

(73) 



74 'SCOJ^SET COTTAGE LIFE 

and the " Praise Meeting " at one of the hotels in the 
evening. The former was not typical, T fear, for the 
good man who conducted the entire service from a 
platform, read and prayed and lengthily preached, as 
if it was by preconcerted arrangement that he was 
moved by the Spirit, precisely as the preacher of 
World's People might have been moved. The Praise 
Meeting, however, conducted by the transient dwellers 
in 'Sconset, and consisting wholly of the singing of 
sacred music with piano accompaniment was more 
spontaneous and a most fitting close of a peaceful day. 

On another Sunday a clergyman, in the village for 
the day, conducted religious services in the hotel par- 
lors. I do not say they were shortened in view of the 
bathing hour, but I know we, the congregation, in- 
cluding my household, staid not upon the order of our 
going, after service, but went directly to our rooms 
and cottages to prepare for the bath — seeking that 
which at least comes next after godliness. 

What a shock it gave me, when I emerged from my 
dressing-room arrayed in my blue flannel bathing-suit 
all trimmed with white and unmistakably a bathing- 
suit, to see before me in the common reception-room 
of our cottage — the clergyman! 



SUNDAY AT 'SCONSET 75 

" What, sir! are you going to bathe ? " said he. 

" Well," I stammered, " it seems to be according 
to the ' Standards ' at 'Sconset, and — I don't mind 
saying that I consider it to be quite as important to 
preserve one's health on Sunday as on any other day 
of inferior quality." 

" Quite right! quite right! — and I am glad to hear 
you give so fair an expression of what I have thought 
is a wise truth," said the robust and genial clergyman, 
as he drew from under his arm — a bathing-suit ! 

" Can I have an apartment for a moment or two in 
which to re-attire myself ? " he asked; and I thanked 
him for his moral support in the matter of the bath, 
and said he might. 

Once at the beach, I found that the gracious and 
benign preacher was so magnificent in his physique, 
and (despite his efforts to be staid and sedate) fought 
the waves so gallantly, that I wondered he had preached 
so well. He never could have had dyspepsia, that 
grand promoter of serious meditation upon the sinful- 
ness of the world; he certainly had none of the schol- 
arly stoop and thinness which popularly belong to the 
digger in books;— and yet, had I not just now been 



76 'scoxsET cott.iCtE life 

listening to this strong swimmer with great delight 
and profit ? 

I shall not tell his name. I do not know what stuff 
his deacons and elders, vestrymen, or whatever they 
are officially, are made of. Possibly they might see 
harm in what their pastor did. We did not. And 
some 01 us thought it was a good sign of the times 
that a simple, natural, quiet and healthful recreation 
of this sort could be indulged in with no thought on 
the part of any one that it was wrong for us or for 
" the minister ". 

Xone of us, I think, will ever forget the Sunday 
evening when a goodly company went down to the 
beach, with wraps and heavy coats, and sat on the 
sand under an extemporized awning, and some of us 
listened while others sang the good old tunes and 
hymns, and then rare songs that stirred the depths of 
our hearts, — while the moon came grand and queenly 
out of the sea making ten thousand wave-crests silvery, 
and leaving the hollows blue and dark. Then mount- 
ing higher it poured such splendor down that the wide 
expanse of waters was lighted up with the glory of 
the night. Meanwhile sad, sweet, song, or triumphant 
hymn, or wailing echo of sorrow mingled with the 



SUNDAY AT 'SCOXSET 77 

martial dirge of the ocean forever pulsating along the 
shore. 

There are sacred hours in other temples than those 
reared with hands. These by the soa, — are they not 
such to the true worshiper ? 



CHAPTER IX 

THE SQUAKTUM— SACHACHA PON^D — ON THE MOORS 

i i JVA Y good house-band," for bo did my wife affec- 
tionately address me for a season after our 
long separation, " we are invited to a ' Squantum ', 
to-morrow, by some kind friends of ours, and we must 
surely go. It's the thing; and of all the things here 
it's the most ' typical ', as you say." 

" So we will; though what a ' Squantum ' is passes 
my present comprehension," I replied. 

" Oh, that's only an island name for pic-nic and a 
good nice time wandering over the moors to the squan- 
tum-ffround. A ' clam-bake ' on the shore is the full 
development of a squantum — though for that matter 
you may pic-nic where you please and as you please, 
in the open air." 

The next morning, four of us from our cottage 
climbed up by the rear step and over the seats into 
Mr. Folger's curious but most serviceable " box-cart " 
(bawx-cawt is the local pronunciation), the baskets of 

(78) 



THE SQUANTUM TO 

sandwiches, pickles, cake, cold coffee, lots of canned 
things and what-not, were stowed away and the wraps 
and rugs handed up. The male personage of the 
party took the lines, obeyed Folger's injunction to 
*' hit him a lick! " — to wit, the horse; — and away we 
went, threading the lanes of 'Sconset to its northern 
limits, and then off into indefinite space northwesterly 
and pretty nearly all around the compass. We were 
preceded by two carriages (a comfortable innovation 
brought over from Boston), whose occupants were 
familiar with the systems and sub-systems of ruts that 
traverse the moors in every direction, and cross and 
criss-cross each other to the utter distraction of the 
novice. 

What a delightful ride that was! Out beyond the 
town into the fenceless fields, over the swelling waves 
of the landscape, through little vales and over the 
ridges and around the mounds; — skirting little emerald 
ponds no bigger than a village door-yard and sur- 
rounded by wild shrubbery, golden -rod and flaming 
flowers; — out among the heather, the dwarf oaks no 
higher than your knee, the creeping meal -berry vines 
with hard, red, fruit like beads, the low huckleberry 
bushes tempting you to dismount over the seat and 



80 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

back-step; — winding and turning and following the 
parallel ruts wherever they led; — at length coming to 
a gate and a vast sheep-pasture and letting ourselves 
through and carefully closing the gate after us; — 
catching gleams of the sea now and then on our right, 
and on our left looking up with respect upon the low 
range of Saul's Hills as being the highest land in all 
Nantucket; — at length by a swoop and a turn coming 
down from the west upon a bay of Sachacha Pond, 
our " Squantum-ground ". 

A small, deserted old house, surrounded by soft, 
luxuriant turf, green and inviting, made the objective 
point which all pleasure-seeking requires, while the 
adjacent barn ministered comfort and protection to 
our horses from the August sun. After descending 
from our vehicles and bestowing edibles and extra 
apparel under a broad extemporized awning, we strolled 
down to the bay. A thirty-foot whale-boat propelled 
by two small boys leisurely approached, and the round 
dozen of us embarked and slowly moved out into the 
lake, to the edge of the shallow water, where for half 
an hour in a most juvenile fashion and in high glee we 
fished for perch — that being strictly " typical " of the 
legitimate squantum in this particular locality. 



SACHACHA POND 81 

The greedy and voracious fishes took the proffered 
bait as if their lives depended upon it. Wriggles and 
feminine screams and fish ad libitum and finally ad 
nauseam — and the old whale-boat that boasted an ex- 
perience, in its palmier days, in the Pacific, was labori- 
ously rowed and poled back to the landing. 

Hunger is the best sauce, as everybody knows, but 
the ladies had done the finest that 'Sconset would per- 
mit, and we hardly needed any sauce whatever when, 
on the shady side of the house, the white table-cloth 
was spread upon the green grass and laden with the 
treasures of the collective baskets. 

Some of the ladies could sing charmingly. At 'Scon- 
set and here, in the absence of all accompaniment, I 
noted anew what a wonderful thing is the human voice ! 
— full of all tenderness and strength, feeling, melody, 
richness beyond comparison, and adaptation to all 
phases of human emotion ! Man has made wood and 
metal and material of all sorts vocal with beautiful and 
grand sounds, has woven the threads of melody into 
harmonies that interpret thought and emotion wonder- 
fully, — but God made the human voice, and His work 
surpasses all the rest. 

Did you hear Parepa at the Boston Jubilee ? 



82 'SCOI^SET COTTAGE LIFE 

The descending sun gently hinted to ns that our 
dreamy afternoon in the shade of the old house was to 
end by and by; and we wanted a leisurely drive home- 
ward over the moors in the afternoon light and by a 
new and still more picturesque route. We gathered 
up the fragments of our feast and were soon climbing 
into the box-cart and the carriages. Away we went, 
in quite a spirited fashion, picking our way among the 
criss-crossing ruts to Quidnet, a nearly deserted little 
fishing hamlet near the sea and on the north-eastern 
shore of the Pond. 

There we left our companions, took their directions, 
the sun and the faithful old landmark, Sankaty Light 
House, as our guides, and wandered off westward, to 
swing around by a long circuit homeward. 

Striking through some sheep-fields, we came upon a 
few houses, three or four, weather-beaten and old — 
and this was Polpis. I wanted to see Polpis, to ascer- 
tain how a town would thrive under such a name. 
Luckily we found it, although it is " going back into 
the ground " so rapidly that in a few years the tourist 
will look for it in vain. We saw, also, beyond us a 
house or two in the distance, near the arm of the sea 
which makes the harbor, and they said that was Quaise, 



OVER THE MOORS 83 

once of some importance for some reason which I have 
forgotten (if I ever knew) but now almost too feeble 
to support even its short and queer name. 

Everything is historic on this island; — that is one 
of the fortunes of things old, like the privileges every- 
body concedes to age. But unless you are a Xan- 
tucketer you do not experience a very exalted thrill 
over Polpis and Quaise. You very likely tire of the 
endeavor of honest souls to impress and solemnize you 
with regard to a good many of the other historic things 
of Nantucket. That is because you have doubtless 
been overwrought and are weary with your own modest 
local history of a commonplace order. And when you 
come to think of it, after all, Xantucket is about as 
far from being commonplace as any region of our 
broad country this side of the Rocky Mountains. It 
is unique, sui generis, delicious in its quaintness, in its 
humble romances, in its stories of the whaling fisheries. 
Everything here is insular and singular, too, consider- 
ing that the little republic belongs to our common coun- 
try. The people speak of " the continent " as if, for- 
sooth, the rest of us were foreigners,— good enough in 
our way, no doubt, but foreigners for all that. 

Meanwhile we are getting out of Polpis, as best we 



84 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

can, along a very sandy road between fences which 
hold us remorselessly to our dusty appointed^way. We 
pass the really fine farm of Mr. Sandford, who lives in 
Xantucket town but delights to bring his friends out 
here and show them what fine cattle and sheep and 
corn and hay he manages so well to raise on the sterile 
island. 

But again we are out on the moors, into the firm 
hard rats, or driving where we will where no wheel has 
rolled before us, beyond the fences and all signs of 
human ownership, in the midst of Nature's unvexed 
domain, and among the vales and on the rounded ridges 
of "Saul's Hills". These afford us points of obser- 
vation where we see views which in the golden light of 
the late afternoon are exquisitely charming and dream- 
ily beautiful. The tender haze of a lovely hour is over 
all — a bridal veil that beautifies every feature. The 
island is treeless except as to the scrubby jack-pines 
planted in some parts to induce the growth of other 
varieties of trees; and the bare brown hills and broad 
level expanses in this light wear a rich and rare strange- 
ness. Sankaty Light House lifts its friendly and com- 
forting face seaward, while on the other hand " the 
town" with its spires and white houses half encircling 



ox THE MOORS 85 

the harbor remind us of human life as a dream. Close 
at hand, all around us, are silence and absence of man 
and all his works, a solitude set in the eternal hills, 
absence of all traces of man, too, except here and 
there the winding path where others have wandered at 
their own sweet will like ourselves this summer's day. 
The descending sun is clothing the hills with a deeper 
purple and sending darker shades into the valleys. 

Such wonderful lichens, such beautiful golden-rod, 
such strange grasses, such a variety of rare and luxuri- 
ant mosses, such creeping vines, as we gathered, were 
never seen by any of us on " the continent '■" on a 
country holiday. 

" Oh, do please get that strange flower for me! " — 
" I must have that lichen for our little parlor; did you 
ever see anything so exquisite! " — " There is a moss 
more beautiful than any flower! " — " If you will be 
such a good man as to gather a bunch of that grass for 
me, — it will arrange so prettily!'' These were the 
continued appeals of the ladies. 

They were not made in vain. I was in the spirit 
then as much as ever St. John was. I suppose I 
bounded out of that box-cart twenty times in pursuit 
of treasures of this sort and climbed laboriously back 



8G 'SGONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

again, piling the capacious wagon full of the spoils. 
But we came at length upon such a store-house of 
these riches that the whole party, moved by a common 
impulse, descended from the ark, and the spolia- 
tion began in earnest! The mild-tempered beast 
browsed contentedly along behind us; while we went 
from one lichen bed to another, or revelled in mosses 
fed to luxuriance on the damp sea-breezes, or — with 
more humble taste but hardly less appreciation — 
plucked luscious huckleberries by the handful. 

It was delightful to the senses and surpassingly rest- 
ful, too, to lie on the clean dry beds of grasses and the 
velvety mosses, among the heather, and look long and 
deeply into the calm blue sky, into depth after depth, 
until the mind took up the wondrous vision, where the 
eye grew weary, and saw unutterable things beyond^ 
— looking, too, off upon the increasing purple of the 
hills, — and to feel that for once to the tired body and 
weary spirit had come rest and peace immeasurable, a 
calmness beyond all expression, and the welling sense 
of some strange beauty in this lonely place, such as 
even meadows and parks and fountains and murmur- 
ing streams flowing between embowered banks could 
never give. 



ON THE MOORS 87 

But already half the disk of the great round orb of 
day is below the horizon; and again making the peril- 
ous ascent into our ancient vehicle we proceed home- 
ward by devious ways, along paths which lead us some- 
times quite astray. All ways, however, lead to the 
broad highway, with its many ruts, from Nantucket 
to 'Sconset. Once in that we are safe, dark as it now 
is; and in due time the friendly lanterns over the 
gates, swaying in the light evening breeze, wave us 
gentle welcomes, and we reach our cottage door. 

The " squantum " and the wandering over the moors, 
this summer's day, will never be forgotten by us. And 
all ye who would possess one fresh memory of unac- 
customed enjoyment of Nature in a rare mood, fail 
not at your peril to go and do likewise, if ever you are 
a cottager at 'Sconset! 



CHAPTER X 

A DAY IN " NANTUCKET TOWN " 

A GAIX chartering Folger's box-cart and lazy beast, 
one fine day five of us from our cottage drove 
over to Xantuclvct town. 

And what a town! Xot very large, indeed — once 
having a population of ten thousand souls, now only 
about three thousand; quaint, a choice bit of antiquity 
as antiquity goes in this country; seated like an em- 
press on her throne upon the rising shore and encircling 
bluffs, and looking out on the peaceful harbor and be- 
yond on the restless sea; historic in respect to a great 
industry, now as dead as the issues of the late " un- 
pleasantness " ; the nursery of noted men and high- 
bred women ; and, although in decadence as a seaport, 
coming to renown and a new preeminence as a summer 
resort wdiich once visited is visited again and always 
remembered with delight and affectionate longing. 

The harbor still invites the great ships; but only the 
summer pleasure-steamers and the swift-flying yachts 

(88) 



A DAY IN " KAXTUCKET TOWN" 89 

and the busy row-boats vex its waters. The wharves 
are ample to receive the oily freights of many whalers, 
as in the good old days, if only their ghosts would re- 
habilitate themselves in oaken hulls and spread again 
the many-sheeted canvas; but they are nearly all 
vacant now. 

They point out to you the old Captains' Club House, 
down among the tall ware-houses, where the sea cap- 
tains used to come together and spin their yarns and 
smoke their pipes and plan new ventures on the seas. 
The captains have pretty nearly all gone on their last 
voyage, never to return. The few that remain are 
mainly too old to hobble down to the Club; and while 
the sturdy brick building stands against wind and 
weather and the ample arm-chairs invite to social chat 
and smoke, its original use is fast becoming a memory. 

There are various fine buildings that surprise one in 
this remote place, and tell of the past importance of 
the town. It has its Athenaeum, full of curiosities and 
treasures pertaining to sea life and enterprise ; contain- 
ing also a public library that is an honor to any town. 
Its Academy,— " the Coffin School"— incorporated 
eighty years ago, answers the question every intelli- 
gent visitor asks himself, " Where do these insular 



90 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

people get such culture as they exhibit in wise speech 
and in refined, high bred manners ? " Its churches, 
excellent hotels, and occasional charming private resi- 
dences attract your attention. Indeed, the town, al- 
though old, with grass growing around " the cobbles " 
in the streets, with the signs of age everywhere and 
the weather-beaten hue in its bewrinkled face, is as 
far from commonplace as the gourd-like Cottage City 
on the neighboring island. 

Xobody seems to be in a hurry in Xantucket — except, 
perhaps, the teller of the bank where I went at noon 
to get a draft cashed. He wanted very much to go to 
dinner — and he went, not to open the institution again 
that day. A faithful servant, as he is, of the " soul- 
less corporation " he represents, he wanted me to find 
some one to identify me, but warningly informed me 
that unless I returned within three minutes I must 
wait for my money until the next day — the bank 
would be shut until the morning. I chose rather to 
tarry the three minutes and dilate to him upon the 
absurdity of an intelligent Kantucketer closing his 
bank at noon to go to dinner and then to sleep until 
the next morning. He answered me well enough, and 
politely, too, that there wasn't enough to do to keep 
the bank open more than two or three hours a day. 



A DAY IlSr "NANTUCKET TOWN" 91 

That is typical of Xantucket on its business side — 
Oriental, you will say, viewing it in a theoretical way 
and in the light of sentiment, with no draft to cash; 
but I called it by another name, — scolded, in fact, and 
went off and paid my wife's grocery bill, got my draft 
cashed in that way, and shunned that bank entirely. 

They have a town-crier or two in Nantucket, a relic 
of the past, who rings a bell and hoarsely bawls out 
the news, announces a lecture or a " show " in a hob- 
ble-gobble dialect which may be Choctaw for all I 
know, or blows a horn to announce that the steamer 
is in sight. He is only valuable and endurable as a 
relic, however, the embodiment of an ancient custom 
— otherwise he is very much a humbug and a nuisance. 

The bathing-houses on the harbor and on the shore 
of the sea outside, all of which we visited, are points 
of attraction all day long. They are admirable and 
usually good in all their appointments. Large num- 
bers of people bathe and larger numbers gather there 
socially and sit in the covered pavilion and look on, and 
gaze at the ocean. That never wearies, whatever con- 
versation may do. It is a popular drive, also, to the 
seaside bathing resorts. There is no surf bathing, and 
to us, right from 'Sconset, it seemed a very tame mat- 



92 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

ter to wade and swim in the quiet water, with no re- 
spectable emotion of possible danger to stimulate. 
But still-bathing has its advantages, and is very agree- 
able, notwithstanding its tameness. Not its least ad- 
vantage is that by means of it many here learn to 
swim, and so graduate to that higher institution, the 
surf- bath, and the fearless plunge into the breakers. 
From the bath-houses we drove up a steep hill to the 
cliff, northwest of the town, where are several delight- 
ful cottages overlooking a broad and magnificent ex- 
panse of ocean. At one of these, the summer resi- 
dence of a Cincinnati gentleman and his family, we 
were most hospitably entertained, and shown cottage 
life as it exists at Nantucket; and vastly different from 
the life at 'Sconset it is. This cottage is an ample 
summer home, simply furnished, and yet abounding in 
pictures, books, and bits of decoration that give it an 
air of luxury and refinement. But from the ample 
verandah facing the sea, the view, as considered from 
the great easy-chairs, is too fine and grand to permit 
one to remain long indoors. From this elevated posi- 
tion the study of the waves is very interesting, and 
the swift yachts and great sea-going vessels in the dis- 
tance make the picture full of action. 



A DAY IN "NANTUCKET TOWN" 93 

The occupants of the cottage take their daily bath 
in the sea before the door. The descent to it is long 
and steep; and the gentleman of the house gave us a 
most animated description of the miscellaneous man- 
ner in which the whole household every morning rolled 
and tumbled down the sandy cliff to the beach, and 
afterward — hie labor hoc opus es^— climbed up again by 
long successive stair-ways planted in the face of the 
bank. 

On our drive to town again, we passed the line large 
cottage of the artist, Eastman Johnson, who doubtless 
was then painting his picture, " The Xantucket Sea- 
Captain." 

We went industriously about the town, visiting vari- 
ous resorts of special interest;— and first, the Athen- 
^um, which contains the Library and Museum, where 
they serve you up whales' jaws, teeth and so on, and 
harpoons, — indeed every interesting thing appertain- 
ing to whaling enterprises, except a wreck or a man 
overboard,— besides the usual dusty and musty an- 
tiquities that give a ghostly sanctity to museums, the 
dead-houses of the past. Then we all and severally 
inscribed our names and temporary abodes in the 
" Visitors' Book " at Godfrey's news-room, where 
everybody goes to learn where everybody is. 



94 'SCON"SET COTTAGE LIFE 

Nantucket abounds in old crockery and antique fur- 
niture, both rich and fine in their day and now 
esteemed greatly valuable because old. I suppose 
more ancient crockery has gone out of the plain old 
homes of Xantucket into fine houses in the cities of 
" the continent " than from any other town of its size 
in the country. They will tell you that Miss So-and- 
So, or Mrs. This-and-That — stately, dignified dames 
who have seen better days and whom the receding 
tides of commercial prosperity left aground, — are will- 
ing to part with treasures of this sort. 

We went to see. The first room we entered was full 
of odd old crockery {ivas it all old F) bright and clean, 
and labelled with the amount of the consideration the 
payment of which would enable you to bear off the 
prizes. The ladies of my party wanted to purchase 
pretty much everything and were, after all, restrained 
in their enthusiasm only by the masculine veto. I 
felt my own weakness, I admit, when we entered the 
sombre-fronted old mansion where we found the an- 
tique furniture. There were tables, writing-desks, 
bureaus, bedsteads, stands, fire-place furniture and 
hosts of other things that quite captivated me, — but 
my own great good sense and intimate knowledge of 



A DAY IN- *' NANTUCKET TOWN '* 95 

the personal exchequer enabled me here also to resist 
temptation. 

There are homes, however, in serious oldXantucket, 
where remain still the wealth, culture and high-bred 
men and women of the former days; but we, alas! are 
strangers and pilgrims and may not enter. We must, 
forsooth, content ourselves with these glimpses within 
the doors which have opened to us and other pilgrims 
at the stern knock of necessity. 

A day in town is not complete, by any means, with- 
out a sail. This day happened to be most propitious, 
— a bright clear sky, a good breeze stirring, and a tem- 
perature that no manner of amending could have im- 
proved. So we went down en masse to the wharf, en- 
gaged the little yacht " Ellouise " commanded by 
young Captain Adams, and were soon sailing about the 
harbor — itself a long, capacious inland sea separated 
from the ocean by a narrow strip of sandy beach — and 
then right out around Brant Point and over the bar to 
sea ! How we danced and rocked over the waves, and 
sped along with the wind! Is there anything in life 
more delicious than sailing! And this is the daily 
delight of the summer sojourner at Nantucket. Those 
who linger in town say to the 'Sconseter, — 



96 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

"Ah, you miss the sailing! How can you enjoy life 
by the sea without the daily sail ? See all these pretty 
yachts waiting for you, each with its faithful captain 
who will take you in safety through any storm, — with 
this stretch of inland sea all the way to Wauwiiiet for 
rough weather, and the whole Atlantic for fair weather! 
This is what makes us love Nantucket." 

The 'Sconset dweller is forced to admit all the attrac- 
tions claimed, but plucks up courage and says, — 

" But you haven't surf -bathing here, — you haven't 
our simple and quiet life, — you don't hear the roaring 
on the beach when you lie down to sleep and when you 
wake, — you are in town, and that is what you left home 
to escape. The moors are out of sight ; so are Sankaty 
Head on the one hand, and Tom Never's Head on the 
other. You don't get, here, the grand sweep of the 
ocean, and the sunrise and moonrise out of the waves; 
and the mad leaping and fierce fighting of the tides 
and waves on ' the rips ' you never see here." 

Since you cannot have both you choose one, each for 
himself, and therewith, happily, are content. 

It is only honest to let the dweller in Nantucket 
have the last word and say, as he does, — 

'Sconset? Certainly, — we make that one of 



i(. •>< 



A DAY IN "NANTUCKET TOWN" 97 

the points to drive to. We look at your surf and 
perhaps take a plunge; peep into your cottages and 
dine with you ; and bring away the cream of your life 
there. We sometimes drive over to the South Shore, 
too, through the avenue of pines. There is the surf 
for you, when the south wind blows! That is the 
favorite drive of those delightful young lunatics — the 
lovers. They say the evening breezes whisper very 
pretty things among the pines. Then, too, when we 
are cheerful enough for it, we visit the old cemetery. 
Some of the patriarchs are there. Besides, near the 
town there is such success in agriculture that one may 
see green fields and waving harvests without cultivat- 
ing his dreams to that end or going to the main-land 
for the vision. Indeed, why should one live at the 
very edge of creation when he can live centrally and 
take a peep over the brink whenever he chooses! " 

When we returned to our hotel, the dear old College 
Professor, of Christian mould and spirit but Hellenic 
culture, grave as an oyster on the outside but like a 
peach inside for sweetness and richness— to say nothing 
of his rare, juicy humor — the Professor had come in 
from some philosophical wandering. We all knew him 
of old and rejoiced to meet him in his vacation leisure. 



98 'sco:n^set cottage life 

He entered heartily into my planning for a day of blue- 
fishing, and went to the wharf to aid me in securing a 
place in some company that might be going out on the 
morrow. He knew every captain and craft, and it was 
not his fault that I did not succeed in securing the 
coveted opportunity. 

However, this gave me an occasion to do the Profes- 
sor a favor that he never dreamed of. I ordered out 
my horse and box-cart from the stable near the wharf; 
and, assisting the Professor to mount, proudly drove 
him up through the town to the Sherburne House ! I 
cannot say that he regarded the performance with en- 
tire equanimity; for when I sought to discern some 
merry twinkle in his eye, his spectacles gave no sign. 
The Professor, however, thought the cart might be 
something like that in which Nausicaa and her maidens 
took the royal washing down to the river; but he did 
not certainly know that he should have enjoyed a ride 
in- that, while this had given him, to say the least, one 
of the most astonishing rides of his life. I did not 
precisely know what he meant, for the Professor is very 
kind hearted and polite, and never indulges in Carlylese. 

It was a little later in the day than I intended it 
should be when we set out on our return to 'Sconset. 



A DAY IN " NANTUCKET TOWN" 99 

The wind from the south shore was blowing gently, 
and as night fell, a thick fog enveloped us, — a 
*' fog-rain," as they call it, came upon us, — and it 
became cold and very dark. There was no reason- 
able chance of losing our way. Indeed, the deep ruts 
of the parallel roads in the broad highway to 'Sconset 
would not permit us to deviate an inch from the direct 
route, unless we should unluckily fall into a pair of 
ruts switching oS to Polpis, Quidnet or some other 
hamlet. But we wondered what would happen if we 
should meet some belated traveler who had usurped or 
wandered into our particular pair of tracks, — or, if 
the Folger beast should give out, — or, if the creaking 
old box-cart should collapse a wheel, and no human 
habitation between Nantucket and 'Sconset! Of 
course, nothing did happen; and we jogged steadily 
on in the darkness, the south-west side of us growing 
damper and damper until our incredulity as to a " fog- 
rain " was utterly dispelled. At length Sankaty beck- 
oned to us through the fog, and then the feeble lamps 
of 'Sconset did their finest to welcome the belated 

travelers, and we were again at our cottage door. 
LofC. 



CHAPTER XI 

" A - S H A R K I N G " 

|V[ summer experience at 'Sconset is complete with- 
out at least one " sharking" expedition. It was 
indeed too typical an affair to be omitted by one in 
pursuit, as I was, of all the sorts of knowledge that 
could be picked up in this out-of-the-way corner of 
the universe, this " land's-end " of America. 

We made up a party of five men, — not finding it 
convenient to take with us the courageous lady who 
wanted to be in at the death of a shark and to have a 
hand in the death herself. Driving over to Quidnet 
we engaged Captain Alexander Bunker, a rare old 
specimen of the ancient mariner, and a crew of two 
men, to take us out to the sharking grounds on the 
shoals. As a preliminary, we took row-boats and on 
Sachacha Pond, in a short time, caught one hundred 
and fifty perch for bait. The thirty-foot whale boat 
was launched through the surf, — no easy task, — the 
sail hoisted, and we moved gaily out under a smiling 

(100) 



"a-sharking" 101 

sun and a most beneficent sky, over gently swelling 
waves, to our destination about a mile from shore. 
Two anchors were put out so as to bring the boat broad- 
side to the tide. The men split the perch from the 
back and thrust seven or eight upon each hook, and 
we cast our lines overboard with the tide. 

The tackle for shark-fishing is formidable, as becomes 
the use it is put to. The hook, made of one-third 
inch wire, is nearly a foot long and four inches across 
the bend ; and to it is attached three feet of strong 
chain having a swivel, for a shark's teeth are sharp and 
strong and when he is caught he is very uneasy and 
erratic. To this chain is fastened three or four feet 
of half-inch rope, into which is looped the small hand- 
line much like a good, stout clothes-line, and two or 
three hundred feet long. 

The tide is an important element in the business, 
for when it is running the fish are then feeding and 
the lines sweep slowly away from the boat in search of 
a victim. The hook is lowered to within a foot of the 
bottom, here about thirty feet below; and as the tide 
carries the bait gently along, the fisherman pays out 
line and patiently waits. There is busy life down in 
the sea-green waters, and denizens of the deep that you 



10^ 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

little dream of,— all sorts of fish, indeed, but each 
variety demanding a somewhat dift'erent inducement 
to put in an appearance at the surface. We are after 
sharks, however, and while we wait the Captain tells 
us what to expect. 

" The shark," says he, " is a very gentle fellow to 
bite, considerin' what a row of teeth he's got, and 
what an ugly brute he is when he has once got a hold. 
He gives the bait a little nudge with his nose, just to 
see what it's made of, and when he's concluded it'll 
answer his turn he just flops over and takes it into his 
mouth as delicately as you please. You don't want to 
pull just yet, or you'll only jerk the bait away. .Just 
let your line out a little and wait a bit until he's 
started to swallow it. You can tell; there'll be a 
sort o' tug on the line, not very heavy, though. Then 
throw yourself back, and pull like blazes! " 

Meanwhile, H. had dropped a small hook and line 
over the boat's side for " place-fish ". At this instant 
he sprang from his seat and began pulling in, hand 
over hand, something particularly lively. It proved 
to be a " baby-blue-dog ", two or three feet long. 

"First blood!" shouted H., as the rakish and 
vicious little shark was drawn into the boat and dis- 



"a-sharking" 103 

patched; "and where this came from I'm sure there's 
game of a bigger sort." 

Suddenly, D., in the stern, began tugging with all 
his might, the line slipping through his hands and he 
gathering it in again by main force and slowly gaining. 
We were all about as excited as he was, for this capture 
was evidently no " baby shark ". When the fish came 
within sight of the boat his whole aspect changed from 
that of a swaggering, half good-natured bully, to one 
full of rage and fear. He threshed and floundered and 
pounded the water into a foam with his powerful tail, 
and shook his head fiercely to dislodge the stinging 
hook. One or two men grasped the large rope when 
it came within reach, the chain rattled over the boat's 
side, the nose of his sharkship was brought snug to 
the gun-whale, and then one of the crew, standing 
ready with a stout billy, gave the nose a dozen whack- 
ing blows, while gradually the swashing and gigantic 
writhings, and the foaming of the water subsided. 
The shark, of the variety known as the " sand-shark ", 
was dead, and was speedily drawn into the boat. This 
fellow was eight feet long, estimated weight, four 
hundred pounds. It was an exceedingly exciting 
piece of work to take him, — " but," the captain said. 



104 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

" wait till you catch a ' blue-dog ' if you want to see 
fun alive." 

Hardly had we done looking at the revolting creature, 
quiet enough now, when I, at my end of the boat, 
with seventy-five feet of line out, felt the " poke ", 
the " nibble ", the " tug " that 1 had been anxiously 
waiting for. Cautiously giving out a little more line, 
I waited two or three seconds and then surged heavily 
back and pulled with all my might. The hook was 
fast — there was no mistake about that! The ugly 
creature at the other end of the line pulled, jerked, 
ran hither and yon and counter to my wishes in every 
possible way. He pulled— I pulled. As the line 
slipped through my hands, in great excitement and 
with no breath to spare, I shouted, " Boys — here's 
business! " 

Just then some one got a glimpse of the form of the 
fish as it appeared at the surface some distance away. 
He startled the whole party by exclaiming, " Its a blue- 
dog — a regular ' man-eater! ' " Three men clambered 
hastily to my assistance, for the " blue-dog " is more 
than a match for one man's strength, and is very ugly 
at close quarters. We all pulled our best until the 
outlines of the thoroughly aroused shark appeared in 



*' A-SHARKING " 105 

the green water near the boat. Then followed a fish- 
ing " controversy " that cannot very well be reported 
as it deserves, and as exciting to us landsmen, I 
imagine, as the capture of a whale is to the old whale- 
man. As we drew the shark's head to the surface, his 
jaws distended and armed with the gleaming white 
fangs, sharp, deadly and devilish, the vicious eye 
full of anger, he lashed and beat the water with his 
powerful body and tail as an immensely exaggerated 
trout might have done, — rolling over and over like a 
propeller wheel, and sending the air bubbles of the 
foam several feet down into the water. It seemed for 
a few minutes as if we never should subdue the ugly 
brute. Our strength was tested to the utmost, al- 
though we drew the stout chain across the gunwhale in 
such a manner as to secure a great advantage. At 
length, however, we had the nose snug up to the 
boat's rail. 

"Ease off! Ease off! He'll be in the boat in a 
minute more! " shouted the Captain, — " then some 
body'll have to get out! " 

We *' eased off" in a hurry — the suggestion of such 
company, and " overboard", stimulating us to prompt 
obedience. 



106 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

" Get the lance! " shouted another. Indeed, pretty- 
nearly everybody was sliouting by this time, — especially 
those who were not red in the face and lame in the 
back with pulling on this forty-horse-power villain just 
now busy trying to punch a hole through the boat's 
side. 

]S'o pounding on the nose suffices to extinguish the 
vigorous life or stun the nerves of the diabolical blue- 
dog. The lance, and a desperate plunge of its steel 
into the very heart, is an indispensable part of the 
business when he is brought up for execution. It re- 
quires a quick, strong hand, a steady nerve and not a 
little skill, to strike such an active and fierce monster, 
in the midst of his terrible writhings. But at the op- 
portune instant, the shining steel is placed at the gash- 
like gills and thrust in, eighteen good inches deep, 
right down into the vitals, — and withdrawn as quickly, 
for the stung and wounded creature makes a terrible 
dash against the boat, and rolls over and over in the 
water with tremendous energy. Again and again the 
lance seeks the vulnerable opening, and is plunged in 
as before. Xow the General seizes a big knife, and 
despite the Captain's warning, leans over the boat's 
side and plunges the blade in, half a dozen times, to the 



" A-SHARKING " 107 

liilt. The blood crimaons this liquid battle-field, and 
the tide sweeps it along over a large surface. The 
struggles of the exhausted fish grow less and less, and 
finally cease. 

" Tie him out, awhile," says the Captain; " it won't 
do to take him in yet. I've known 'em to come to, 
in the boat, half an hour after they seemed to be dead; 
and they make ugly work." 

So my blue-dog, seven feet long as he afterward 
measured, was " tied out ", with his nose close to the 
boat, until he should surely be dead. But he was dead 
enough — he never " came to '\ He had been stabbed 
to death as surely as ever Cassar was. 

I confess (with a little twinge) that T was never more 
excited with any sport (!) in my life than with this, 
my first capture of a shart, and a veritable man-eater 
at that. There was hard work enough on our part, and 
a wonderful display of power on his. It seemed as if 
our boat must go to pieces in the fight; and there was 
a. spice of danger in the whole beastly business that 
made one's nerves tingle. 

Before I had my first " nibble ", I had been quietly 
considering whether I shouldn't be sea-sick, — and the 
more I considered the possibility of the humiliating and 



108 'SCO^^SET COTTAGE LIFE 

inconvenient experience, the more surely I thought I 
detected the preliminary symptoms of the malady. 
But the " nibble " cured me instantly, and I was as 
thoroughly seaworthy the rest of the day as any old 
whaleman after a four years' voyage. 

We continued fishing two or three hours, until the 
tide ran so strong as to carry our heavy hooks and 
tackle hundreds of feet away and lift them to the sur- 
face far above the sharks we were after. It was not 
due to my skill, they said, but to my good luck that I 
captured the two blue-dogs of the day, and a pair of 
sand-sharks; — four of the ten sharks taken (not count- 
ing '' the baby "); — and they uttered some ungracious 
things, in a spirit of jealousy, about my profession, — 
something about "kindred ties," "natural sympa- 
thy," " congenial tastes," and such like, wholly inap- 
propriate things. I only retorted that if I could have 
my good friends on the witness' stand sometime, for 
half an hour, under cross-examination, I'd teach them 
a sounder discretion and a higher respect for the 
" profession ". 

We had a good boat load of useless fish, and had 
performed our part of the duty of clearing the seas of 
these pirates. Considerations of duty, however, were 



100 

an after-thoiiglit. I remember that when the murder- 
ous business was over, and having hoisted anchors we 
were sailing for shore, the question was raised by some 
uneasy moralist of our number as to the " what good ? " 
of our bloody sport; and another uneasy moralist of 
our number soothed the general conscience by answer- 
ing, " Pro bono publico have we done this! The whole 
sea-faring and sea-bathing world is benefitted by our 
sanguinary — not to say piscatory — exploits to-day." 
And this is the only apology I can offer for a shark- 
ing expedition. 

We were taken off and through the surf in a dory, 
after which we watched the operation of towing the 
dead sharks ashore, and drawing them up on the beach 
with a horse, and placing them in a row, side by side, 
a horrible lot of corpses! 

The sharks were cut open in our presence and the 
livers extracted, which contain a valuable oil. The 
stomachs — the interior department of a shark is pretty 
much all gullet and stomach — were distended and full 
of water, or water and fish in different stages of diges- 
tion. I imagined the water went down their throats 
while we were hauling them in. I can't conceive how 
even a shark, in a normal condition, should really 



110 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

want so mucli cold water in his stomach — it is carry- 
ing a good principle a little too far. 

At the Captain's house we had a fish-chowder for 
our late dinner, lounged about the three or four houses 
which constitute " the town ", and drove home in the 
early evening. 

The shark-hook and appurtenances that I secured 
and brought away, and the sharks' jaws that I negoti- 
ated for and afterward received (presumably the same 
I caught), are hanging on the wall just above the back 
of my arm-chair in my " private den ", as I write. I 
look at the formidable hook, and the sharp fangs, and 
am vividly reminded of the details of that day 
•*^ a-sharking ". 



B 



CHAPTEE XII 

BLUE-FISHING 

LUE-FISHIXG is not at its best in August; and 
the angler, always in need of the philosophy which 
hopeth all things and endureth all things, should gird 
himself about with three-fold patience when he goes 
for blue-fish in that month. The penny may fall, 
heads up or tails up, win or lose. But the sail itself, 
even if no fish are caught, is a pleasurable experience 
not likely to be counted a disappointment, especially 
when a congenial company unites to make a day of it. 
With a fine breeze and a good-natured sky, and a halo 
of philosophy about you, heads are sure to come upper- 
most and you win, wag the piscatory tails at you ever 
so jocosely and defiantly down in the blue depths. 

If you would catch blue-fish to your heart's content, 
go for them in June,— a piece of advice not likely to 
be serenely received by those who must wait until 
August for their annual vacation. In the leafy month, 
the fish roam over these shoals in great schools, as 

(111) 



112 'SCONSET COTTA.GE LIFE 

hungry and predaceous as so many sharks. You may 
satisfy your bloodiest and most avaricious instincts as 
a fisherman; but after such a debauch of angling you 
will never dare to read the pages of the gentle Izaak 
Walton until you have washed your hands and your 
heart of such wholesale slaughter. 

Perhaps it was better, therefore, that it was my lot to 
go a-blue-fishing in August, when we must hope much 
and fish a little. At all events, we drove over to town 
with delightful anticipations, resolved to be content 
with whatever might happen, and drove back again at 
night bringing a great basketful of the finest fish, — 
the least part, after all, of what we brought. 

It was to young Captain Adams and his pretty yacht, 
*' Ellouise," that we entrusted ourselves. Breeze and 
sky were all in excellent humor, as well as we. Two 
courses were open to us, — to the waters around Tuc- 
kernuck, westerly, and the shoala off Great Point, 
northeasterly. There is little choice between the two, 
we were told, and the direction of the wind generally 
settles the question, that course being taken which 
will afford the best wind for an easy return. To be 
sure, the wind may change during the day, as it did 
with us, and then your wisdom goes for nought. 



BLUE-FISHIJ^-G 113 

Fate and wind took us to Great Point. We went 
bounding over the graceful billows of the great bay 
which the bending shore of the island makes, looking 
carefully for the smooth, oily surfaces of water, called 
by the fishermen, " slicks," which indicate that a 
school of blue-fish are feeding below. Authorities 
differ as to the cause of the " slick ", the fishermen 
generally maintaining that the bine-fish have the 
power of exuding or ejecting, or do in some way give 
off, an oily fluid, while feeding, which rises to the sur- 
face and makes the water smooth. Just why such a 
robust and voracious feeder needs smooth water or 
cares for it, while taking his dinner, the wise fisher- 
man does not attempt to explain. 

We who knew nothing about it, and were therefore 
all the more ready to give an opinion, without the 
slightest hesitation decided that it is more probable 
that when a blue-fish chops up his victims in his blood- 
thirsty way, some of the fat of the slain fish rises to 
the surface — hence the " slick ". We held firmly to 
the opinion because nobody present could disprove it ; 
but the Captain's incredulity was as stuborn as our 
faith. 

Meanwhile, the Captain's nautical eye was wander- 



114 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

ing all over the bay. " A slick yonder! " said he 
quickly, at the same time pointing at something that 
I could not possibly distinguish. Turning the course 
of the yacht, he ran us near it. The surface of the 
large waves all around us was broken into wrinkles by 
the wind — little waves running and climbing over the 
backs of the big ones, like so many playful kittens 
over the backs of their dignified mother — but where 
the " slick " appeared there were no wrinkles. That 
was all there was of the phenomenon which we had so 
ably discussed. 

The lines were got ready, — a good strong cord that 
would hold a twenty-pound fish, but small enough to 
cut one's fingers if much sharp pulling is to be done. 
The hook, an inch and a quarter across the bend, and 
the long piece of lead above it covered with an eel- 
skin, made baiting and catching apparatus. The Cap- 
tain called it a " drail ". As we turned into the wind 
and came to a dead stop near the oily surface, the 
General began to " heave and haul ", our Sportsman 
of the heavy bass-rod and reel and pearl squid made 
vigorous casts and reeled in, again and again, but there 
was no response. The " slick " was as barren as a 
rock, or — a suggestion that no one dared to make in 



BLUE-FISEIK-Q 115 

that presence — the heaving and the casting, the haul- 
ing and the reeling, were not well done. By general 
consent, however, we voted the thing a delusion, pos- 
sibly a premeditated snare on the part of the fish, and 
bent our course again directly to Great Point. 

Here the tide and waves were running fiercely over 
the shoals and making very rough water. The Cap- 
tain, however, turned the bow of our staunch little 
craft right into the most tumultuous waves, and we 
plunged about in a frightful fashion. 

" Out with your lines! " said he; " here's where 
you'll get blue-fish if anywhere." 

We obeyed, and the heavy " drail " skipped and 
flashed through the crests of the waves sixty or seventy 
feet away, while we speedily forgot how rough the 
water was. Our Sportsman, who had fished for about 
everything that swims, from one end of the continent 
to the other, but had never taken a blue-fish on a rod, 
now sent the pearl squid spinning out thirty or forty 
feet and reeled off a hundred feet of line. 

'' Ha, there's a break ! " sang out the Captain. And 
sure enough, — as the fortunate man found whose line 
was taut in an instant. AYe were going like mad 
through the roughest water, and a splendid fish had 



116 'SCON'SET COTTAGE LIFE 

taken the hook. Hand over hand the lucky man 
pulled, the fish running from side to side and occasion- 
ally leaping right out of a wave and shaking the hook 
as a terrier does a rat. Brought to the boat's side, he 
was unceremoniously flopped in, as full of fight as 
ever; the Captain, thrusting the helm under his arm, 
twisted the hook from the savage mouth and threw 
him into the tub. 

" An eight-pounder," says the Captain, as he tosses 
the " drail " into the water and the line runs over the 
stern of the boat. 

Having crossed the shoal, we put about and plunged 
into " the rips " again. Then my turn came — the 
heavy strike, the leap and rush at the other end of the 
line, while at my end I felt the thrill and excitement 
incident to the novel and exhilarating experience of 
the first " strike " of a blue-fish. It was fine; some- 
thing like, but much more savage than the strike of a 
black bass. The strength and activity of the creature 
seemed to be animated and intensified by an angry in- 
telligence quite becoming in this blood-thirsty marauder 
of the seas. How the line cut through the water, from 
side to side! How it cut through my fingers, too, as 
the ugly fellow now and then recovered some of the 



BLUE-FISHING 117 

line ! We were under swift head-way in a most uneasy 
and badly broken up part of "the rips", and I was 
plunging about the boat, trying to maintain my equili- 
brium and foot-hold, and at the same time to do my 
part of the pulling. But finally I had him near enough 
to see every motion and, in a most hurried fashion, to 
study his tactics. I had pretty nearly tired him out, 
but he was ugly to the last and fought it out with me 
most gallantly until Captain Adams flopped him ig- 
nominiously in, and sent him to the tub with his 
brothers, the noblest of them all. At the wharf that 
night he weighed ten pounds, a goodly fish for these 
waters in August. 

Our friend of the fine tackle, despite frequent en- 
tanglements with sail and cordage, spun and reeled 
faithfully, and at length successfully. The capture 
of a blue-fish with rod and reel is something well worth 
seeing. The Captain was sure that it would be a failure 
— that the rod would be converted into kindling wood 
in less than a minute. But the Sportsman was an 
artist in angling, scientific to his finger-tips, and as 
modest as he was brave. He quietly "thought" he 
could manage a fish if he should strike one. And he 
did, most magnificently. It was not a contest of 



118 

" pull ", but a skilful application of all the nice prin- 
ciples involved in trout-fishing with a six-ounce rod, 
with the disadvantages of a stiff rod and a rapid sail. 
There were S23lendid rushes, making the reel whiz, and 
leaps three feet or more into the air, and a prolonged 
struggle which we all watched with great interest and 
with some misgivings as to which would be the victor 
the plucky sportsman or the equally plucky fish. The 
Sportsman won — the fish went to the tub. 

We had much more of this sport all around, fortune 
distributing her favors with but little partiality. In 
the midst of it, however, the primal instinct awoke 
within us, and we ran into smooth water under the 
lee of Great Point, and lunched. The only memor- 
able thing about that feature of the day is that we ate 
lobster inordinately — enougn to kill a landsman, I 
think — and live to tell the tale. It speaks well for 
the Xantucket lobster, and it is not solely for his bene- 
fit that I commend and commemorate his virtues. 

Resuming active duty, back and forth across the 
shoal we sailed capturing fish at nearly every bout, and 
achieving success to such a degree that our sport was 
degenerating into hard work, — until it finally occurred 
to the Captain, as the coolest observer on board, that 



BLUE-FISHING 119 

the wind had veered around and become particularly 
fresh. It was a good ten miles to port by air-line; 
but, to reach it by the zigzag route made necessary by 
a dead-ahead wind, there was no estimating the dis- 
tance we must sail. Hauling in our lines, we shaped 
our course for the harbor. 

How we did scud away, right out to sea! I was 
almost convinced that the Captain had mutinied, 
stolen the ship, and was running away with us, when 
—'bout ship! and we drove straight for shore. Ah! 
that was a lucky thought of the Captain's! In two 
seconds more, we should have plunged right into the 
beach,— but he shifted sail and we set out for Wood's 
Holl or the Xorth Pole again. It was getting to be 
pretty rough work for our little craft, out on the broad 
water, and we shipped a sea or two that excited one 
landsman more than his ten-pound blue-fish did. The 
Captain himself did not talk any more, and gave strict 
attention to business, besides invoking the aid of the 
General who is something of a sailor. When we made 
our final tack, away out at sea, with the ocean quite 
in a rage, and pointed straight for the harbor, there 
was general satisfaction, although we were now being 
buffeted about worse than ever. 



120 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

But of course we made port in safety, — everybody 
does who goes blue-fishing with a Nantucket Captain. 
Indeed, it is just to say that the sailors of the Island 
bear the very highest reputation for good judgment, 
skill, and honesty; and that a mishap to a pleasure 
party under their care is almost an unheard of thing. 

It was natural to do so, and I mentally made com- 
parisons, even in the midst of the excitements of the 
day. Blue-fishing, I concluded, is most exhilarating 
sport, — sailing under a sunny sky and over bounding 
billows, — capturing as gamey a fish as swims, — the salt 
sea-air filling one with new vigor and keen physical 
enjoyment. But is it the highest type of piscatory 
sport ? Is it equal to fighting a two-pound trout with 
light rod and fine tackle? Xo! I said so at the end 
of that delightful day, — said it even right after I had 
captured my first blue-fish, — and I have not changed 
my opinion. But then, it is one of the most enjoyable 
things of a sea-shore resort, and well worth doing. 

Blue-fishing is bass-fishing, p/ws the sailing and the 
increased size of the fish, but minus the rod and reel, 
the "play" of the captive, the feeling that you are 
giving him a fair chance for his life, — minus, indeed all 
skill. 



BLUE-FISHING 121 

The return of the yachts, as they came sailing home 
from their various excursions, and swept gracefully 
around Brant Point, out of the rough water of the 
open sea into the smooth harbor, — the light of the 
setting sun shining and smiling on all their white sails, 
— was a most pretty sight. Many of them came from 
various fishing grounds where they had spent the day 
with varied success. Our own tub compared well with 
theirs; but no party was as successful as those who 
were out a day or two before, when the water was very 
rough. A good, stiff breeze, which "makes every- 
thing hum", seems to inspire the fish with a desire to 
snap^and bite at everything within their reach, even 
the shabby deceit of a " drail ". 



CHAPTER XIII 

NED AXD " THE BARi^UM BOYS " GO A-CAMPI^TG — A DAY 
AT WAUWIKET 

IMED had written to me, long before I had come on, 
for my Adirondack camp-stoye and " lots of tar- 
oil," — for he and the " Barnum boys " and Will Jones 
were going a-camping on the island. When he was 
gathering up his treasures at home for the summer's 
enjoyment, he took the precaution to pack away, in 
the bottom of one of those great mysterious trunks 
that accompanied the family, a water-proofed cotton 
*' A " tent; but the tar-oil had hardly been dreamed 
of as requisite for the sea-shore, where the tuneful 
mosquito was not supposed to abound. 

Indulgent father that I am, I sent the articles 
written for. The boys delayed their camping, how- 
ever, until some days after my arrival, so as to initiate 
me into a full knowledge of all the wonderful things 
and places now grown familiar to them. 

There were great preparations for several days; and 

(122) 



THE BOYS A-CAMPIXG — WAUWINET 123 

four boys found it highly important to make a journey 
to town to lay in stores and procure camp luxuries, 
without which the hardships of tent-life would eclipse 
all the fun. Then an old horse and cart were engaged 
and the entire outfit was transported to the selected 
camp-ground seven miles distant, at the head of the 
harbor, near Coskata Pond, on the northern peninsula. 
At four o'clock the next morning, there was a mys- 
terious tapping at our window which wakened me. 
Xed had been up for an hour, had dressed in his gray 
woolen shirt (the blue one had been devoted to the 
eels, you may remember), and hunter's clothes, break- 
fasted, and was ready to answer the call of his young 
companions. Slinging on his game-bag, filling his 
pockets with loaded shells and shouldering his gun, 
he marched forth, a proud and happy lad. The four 
boys went down to the beach, and in the darkness 
launched the dory through the surf; and, taking ad- 
vantage at this uncanny hour of the tide running 
strongly northward, coasted down several miles to the 
" haul-over ", — a narrow strip of beach between the 
ocean and the harbor,— made a landing through the 
surf, drew the dory over the sand into the quiet 
waters on the other side, and after a mile more of row- 



124 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

ing were at the foot of the cliff on which they were to 
camp. 

I thought it was a plucky thing for these lads to do, 
and admired their spirit. But if these " athletes " 
and my Xed had not all been good swimmers and skil- 
ful at the oar, I think, instead of turning over for my 
morning nap, as I did after the hubbub of their de- 
parture from our cottage was over, I should at least 
have gone down to the beach to see them off, or to 
" gather them in " if the dory had been swamped. 
After all, if you let a boy do dangerous things but teach 
him at the same time what are the dangers and how 
to meet them, you may generally trust him to come 
right side up, even in the difficult matter of launch- 
ing and beaching a dory in the dark. 

Not many days after, an importunate appeal came 
from camp, by some stray messenger, for " more 
bread! " There had been enormous bakings and ex- 
travagant purchases of nearly every edible thing found 
on the island ; and the lads besides were having fine luck 
with the plover, and now and then (I grieve to say) 
unlawfully shot a duck, — while in the Harbor they 
caught blue-fish, and on the beach at Pocomo dug 
long-necked clams. A growing boy — four of him in 



THE BOYS A-CAMPING — WAUWIKET 125 

this case — has a wonderful courage for enjoyment, and 
an appetite, in the open air, which is truly formidable 
and dangerous to trifle with. Nothing appalls him but 
work that has no fun in it — and hunger. Hence the 
gay and happy night passages on the dark and gloomy 
sea, while the resounding surf along the coast was 
nttering muttered threats in their young ears; hence, 
also, the urgent cry for " more bread! " 

Wauwinet is a locally famous resort right on the 
Head of the Harbor, with the ocean a few steps away 
on the other side; while, at what might be called the 
" Foot of the Harbor ", is Xantucket town. A 
" shore-dinner ", made up of all the obtainable sea- 
food of the season, served up in every possible form, 
at the rustic summer hotel at this point, is the avowed 
aim and object of an excursion to Wauwinet. So do 
we apologize, even to ourselves, for vagabondizing; as 
if, on a summer vacation, one might not, with entire 
propriety, go here and there without any object ! Why 
should we, at 'Sconset, beg pardon for our indolence, 
explain our appetite, render a reason for a delightful 
drive over the moors, and point to clam-chowder, 
clams roasted, clams fried, clam-fritters, and all that, 
as the final cause of a day at Wauwinet ? It is the 



126 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

effect of our worse than four hundred years of Egyp- 
tian bondage. Oh, for a reformation in the public 
sentiment which ranks a happy, lazy, good-for-nothing 
vagabond who takes life easy and doesn't apologize, as 
no better than a criminal ! Vive le vagabond — at 
'Sconset! 

The hungry boys, however, quite as much as the 
shore-dinner, drew us to Wauwinet. Jane baked the 
bread, Mrs. Jones made heaps of biscuits and molasses 
cookies, and the vegetable man ransacked his garden 
for its best. It was to be a gala-day for us, and our 
good feeling enured to the benefit of the lads in camp 
who, without knowing it, were already basking in the 
sun-light of our anticipated happiness. We were not 
the first who have done kindness to their fellowmen 
because their own stomachs were full and their hearts 
happy — rendering to others the overplus of happiness 
which they could not wholly consume. 

There were three cart-loads of us, — my entire family, 
baby and nurse included, in one load, four ladies in 
another, and our friends, the robust parson and his 
family, in the third — as cheerful a party on this occa- 
sion as 'Sconset turns out in many a day. We drove 
over the moor-road, under my general pilotage, getting 



THE BOYS A-CAMPING — WAUWINET 127 

most delightfully lost among the ponds and hills and 
dales, two or three times. I silenced the jokes of the 
parson at my expense by suggesting that if I was 
blind, as he intimated, I was having a right happy 
time leading the blind. 

Wauwinet proved a really charming resort. The 
modest little hotel, to begin with, has jutted out here, 
and thrust* out an addition there, and then by a happy 
inspiration spread out a broad, open dining-room, or 
pavilion, which looks over the stunted grass, down to 
the wharf and off upon the blue waters and dancing 
waves of the sunny and safe harbor, and beyond, half 
a dozen miles to Xantucket town itself. If you listen 
you may hear the surf a hundred yards away back of 
the hotel. Up the harbor a little steamer is plowing 
her way, with Xantucket sojourners coming for the 
Wauwinet dinner. The white-winged yachts are scud- 
ding about, the breeze being fresh, and the sailing 
here always safe. Two miles away across the water, on 
a bluff, we see the white tent of Xed and the " Bar- 
num boys ", and with a glass distinguish the flagstaff 
and the stars and stripes. They are patriotic boys- 
born so, when the cannon-roar in the land made all 
the mothers' hearts brave, and men-children were 



128 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

esteemed the Nation's future defenders. One of these 
lads bears the name of " Malvern Hill ", the battle 
field where his gallant father, shot through and 
through, was left dead, but would not die. 

While we were waiting for dinner, the ladies put on 
their bathing-suits and enjoyed the luxury of wading 
and swimming in the clear, blue water of the bay, 
without the necessity of a rope or a husband or brother 
to cling to. My little lady, the pet of the cottage, 
has her shoes and stockings taken off, and fearlessly 
paddles about in the clean pools of sea-" wa-wa " left 
by the tide, to her great delight. The boys watch the 
schools of young blue-fish at the end of the wharf, 
and for once catch sight of a jelly-fish wafting him- 
self gracefully through the water, floating like an 
amber cloud in the clear depth. Everybody, big and 
little, gathers the prettiest shells along the beach, 
now and then picking up some strange thing that 
brings all the heads together to examine it. Yonder, 
at the water's edge, is a fisherman cutting the flesh 
from a shark's jaw and rinsing it frequently. We 
learn all about the process of " curing " sharks' jaws, 
but have no desire to practice the art. The whole 
shark business, indeed, is brutal. 



THE BOYS A-CAMPING — WAUWINET 129 

The " shore- dinner "is at length ready. It is all 
that it has been pictured ; and we learn with surprise 
how many notes your expert cook can play with a 
clam — a perfect symphony, if you stop to think of it. 
The unostentatious bivalve is glorious in his death, 
and a blind man would see beauties in him worthy of 
an ode. We were all a most clamivorous company un- 
til we had exhausted the entire range of the art of 
cookery, as it exists, in a high state of development, 
at Wauwinet. 

After dinner, as had already been arranged, we 
chartered a whale-boat rigged with sails, clambered 
down into it as well as we could, while it tossed and 
pitched at the wharf, had the supplies we had brought 
handed down to us, and sailed across the bay toward 
the American Flag. We were obliged to anchor fifty 
yards from shore, and the small boat we had towed 
after us, and the dory the lads came out in to meet 
us, were loaded down with so many of our party as 
ventured to go ashore in that fashion through the 
spiteful little waves of the bay. 

Landing in a rough-and-tumble way, we clambered 
up the bank, by steps cut in the earth, to a level 
plateau where the tent was erected. The camp-stove 



13C) 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

was smoking as contentedly as it did in the camps of 
the great JS^orthern Wilderness, and a kettle of clam- 
soup was cheerfully simmering on the stove. The 
rude table was already spread with tin-cups and the 
like. Dinner was evidently approaching— the basis 
being here, as at Wauwinet, clams. But dinner was 
forgotten in our advent, and we received a most en- 
thusiastic welcome from the young campers. 
" Where's Xed ? " Tasked. 

"■ Oh, he's down yonder, somewhere, after plover,' 
was the reply. 

I went in the direction indicated to find him. He 
came out of the bush to meet me, with brown hat and 
clothes, the brownest of ^faces, bare-footed, and with 
his pants rolled up, his game-bag at his side and his 
gun over his shoulder,— the most perfect specimen of 
a young backwoodsman I had ever seen. 

We were shown the interior of the tent, with the 
bed of old buffalo robes and blankets thrown over 
dried sea-grass, and a pile of clothes, ammunition and 
a generally demoralized miscellany; also, the cellar 
which the boys had ingeniously constructed and in 
which were stored birds and vegetables, a jug of fresh 
water, and all the remnants of their supplies. We 



THE BOYS A-CAMPI?5"G — WAUWINET 131 

emptied our pails and baskets and bundles, and the 
hungry eyes of the youngsters almost shouted for joy. 
The incipient bread-famine was over, the siege was 
raised. 

*' Well, lads, how are you getting on ? " was asked 
when the greetings and surprises and rapid talking 
were over. 

"First rate! — only, the plover are now nearly all 
gone, and the mosquitoes are pretty thick sometimes. 
They come up out of the bogs and bushes some nights 
by the million. And last night the wind blew across 
this bluff as if it would clean us all off. We didn't 
sleep much." 

" What do you do ? — where does the fun come in ? " 

" Oh, there's enough to do! Some of us get the 
breakfast, while others gather wood down by the Pond, 
or go over in a boat to Wauwinet for a jug of water. 
Then we all go off hunting, or else take the dory and 
catch blue-fish; or we go to Pocomoc, down the Har- 
bor, and dig clams along the beach. We go in swim- 
ming every day, and sometimes in the night, when we 
can't sleep, because of the mosquitoes, — and that's 
fun enough, too. Then comes the dinner. We aren't 
very regular about that, — this cooking business and 



132 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

dish- washing is about the dullest thing of the lot. 
So, we don't get dinner until we're mighty hungry — 
then we eat awfully! We've run pretty low, lately, 
on potatoes and bread; and clam-chowder and soup 
are getting to be a little ' stale '. If you hadn't come 
to-day, we should have had to make a raid on Wauwi- 
net, or go home. 

" One day we walked four miles up to the Great 
Point Light House, through the sand. The two old 
men and their wives, who live there year in and year 
• out were glad enough to see us. They said nobody 
came there and they were dreadfully lonesome. That 
was the time when a boy was good for something and 
wasn't told to ' git out! ' " 

The lads assisted us to return to the whale-boat. 
We hoisted sail again, shouted back our good-byes to 
the gallant young Crusoes, and tacked away with a 
provokingly contrary wind, all over the bay, back to 
Wauwinet. 

On our return to 'Sconset, we took the beach-road, 
and enjoyed the peculiar glory of the ocean as dark- 
ness settled down upon us, but in due time were again 
safely in our snug little cottage. 

Very early one morning, not many days after, I was 



THE BOYS A-CAMPING — WAUWINET 133 

aroused from slumber by somebody tugging at the 
latch string, and in walked Xed. The lads broke 
camp at two o'clock in the morning, and to avail 
themselyes of the tide made a night trip down the 
coast in the dory, bringing with them their entire 
camp outfit. The poor fellows had been nearly eaten 
up by the mosquitoes, passing two or three almost 
sleepless nights, and were glad their allotted time was 
up so that they might return without suspicion of 
having made an ignominous retreat. 

Xed, who w^hen eleven years old had journeyed with 
me nearly a hundred miles through the Adirondack 
Wilderness, camping by the w^ay, but with a good 
guide, very freely confessed that " he liked camping 
in the Adirondacks the best." 



CHAPTER XIV 

A LONELY EVE^KG TKAMP— TOM NEVER's HEAD 

A FTER supper, one particularly quiet day, I wan- 
dered off alone for a walk which should dispose 
me to happy slumber. Wending my way along Sun- 
set Heights, the breeze from the ocean was so exhilar- 
ating that I could not find it in my heart to deny my 
legs the luxury of a good tramp; and on I went, 
southward, along the bluff, until T reached a broad 
expanse of beach where come only the autumn and 
winter waves driven by the fierce gales that harass 
this coast when the summer skies and summer visitors 
have betaken themselves elsewhere. 

I came upon a curious formation, clusters of little 
mounds and hillocks of sand not much higher than 
my head, overgrown in part with various weeds and 
beach-grass. The night shades were already falling, 
and the sky had a weird aspect as if wickedly conjur- 
ing a storm. The sullen roar of the surf came with 
dull resonance to my alert ear. The wind from sea- 

(134) 



A LONELY EVEKII^"G TRAMP 135 

ward was rising and falling in mournful cadences. A 
startled owl lifted himself on broad and noiseless pin- 
ions, almost from under my feet, and circled sus- 
piciously around me, returning across my path which- 
ever way I turned or however often I frightened him 
with my voice. I could see Tom Xever's Head and 
the Life Saving Station on the high bluff in the dis- 
tance, and wandered around among the sand-dunes in 
that general direction, in no real danger of being lost. 
— enjoying to the utmost the strange and novel sensa- 
tions of my night walking amidst these scenes so 
utterly unlike any I had ever before beheld. 

At length I stumbled upon a beautiful little gem of 
a lake near the beach, as clear as crystal, but now as 
dark as ink. All along its banks, except on the sea- 
ward side, grew bushes like alders, with dark green 
foliage; and I could see that the lakelet, coy as a 
maiden, retreated around a point and half hid its wild 
beauty. I knew this must be " Tom Xever's Pond ", 
Ned's favorite shooting ground. 

Pausing here awhile to gather in all the glamour and 
romance of the scene, at an hour when one's fancy 
paints the most common things with rarest shades and 
hues, I climbed the hill and stood on the brink of the 



136 'SCOKSET COTTAGE LIFE 

lofty height of the bluff,— the " Head ". Here, on 
the right, the ocean sweeps away to the westward, 
and on the left to the north; — the ocean, vast, tragic, 
eternal ; — the ocean, rolling its mysterious tides around 
the world and sweeping all shores. 

The moon struggled up through the waves and 
poured the glory of its beams over the dark and heav- 
ing sea. All the crests of the grandly rolling billows 
gleamed. The gnashing teeth, gnawing at the beach 
far below, flashed in the cold light. Dimly I discerned 
the stranded hulk of a vessel that came ashore in a 
storm, years ago, and is now half-imbedded in the 
sand, — its oaken ribs resisting the tooth of time, and 
the beating of the waves. The wind soughed and 
sighed, and in its weird dialect seemed to tell the 
story of wreck and disaster on the great world of 
waters before and around me. Winds that might have 
come from sunny Spain or the Gold Coast, — winds 
that swept the rocky heights of historic St. Helena, 
— winds from the Canaries, — they might have come 
from anywhere in this world toward which my face was 
turned. And with all this, through all my emotions, like 
the grand undertone of the organ, came the ceaseless, 



A LONELY EVENING TRAMP 137 

painfully regular roar of the breakers sounding out 
the seconds of this manifest eternity before me, beat- 
ing the heart-throbs of this living thing, this senti- 
ent being — the ocean. 

I turned away from the scene that I can never for- 
get, and realized almost for the first moment that I 
was alone with all this gloomy grandeur. There, 
behind me, stood the Life Saving Station, suggestive 
of wreck and tragedy,— suggestive, too, of the strong 
feeling of kinship there is, after all, among men. 
Beyond, were the sad, still moors; and below, a vast 
field of dark verdure, Tom Xever's Swamp,— all 
idealized under the rays of the moon, touched by the 
magic of the night. 

I was compelled to say good night to all this loveli- 
ness and mystery, and rapidly walked down the hill 
and wended my way homeward. Among the sand- 
dunes the affrighted night-birds fluttered, sometimes 
startling me as much as I did them. The friendly 
light of Sankaty guided me through the labyrinth, and 
I emerged upon the bluff and into the beaten path 
leading to 'Sconset. The twinkling lights of the vil- 
lage caught my eye, and a sense of relief came to me 
as I felt once more that not only was the wide, grand. 



138 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

gloomy and remorseless ocean in the world, but so also 
were men and women, and children, and cheerful 
firesides, and hearts that love and cherish. 



CHAPTER XV 



nPHE south and east shores of the island are bordered 
by broad and dangerous shoals. Storms and 
darkness sometimes bring the ill-fated mariner within 
the dreaded region, and shipwreck is almost sure to 
follow. To provide for these dangers and calamities, 
life-saving stations have been erected all along the 
coast at intervals of two or three miles, wherein are 
kept boats and apparatus ready for instant use in afford- 
ing rescue and relief in cases of wreck ; and as the 
stormy period of the year approaches, a patrol of brave 
and experienced men is established, whose duty it is to 
keep good lookout, night and day, and in case of dis- 
aster, to render all the aid in their power. The sum- 
mer visitor notes, but little heeds, these unpretentious 
buildings along the bluffs which play an important 
part on the serious side of Xantucket life. 

We witnessed and experienced one or two storms 
which revealed to us something of the power of the 

(139) 



140 'SCOI^J^SET COTTAGE LIFE 

waves. The long, graceful, Atlantic swells, that looked 
so benignant under the summer sky, reared their great 
fronts and rushed with gigantic fury upon the shore. 
They came, wave after wave, rank after rank, army 
after army, an endless host and multitude of roaring 
waters. The deep hollows seemed deep enough to 
engulf a ship. The towering crests were torn and 
buffeted into foam by the wind. The sight was grand, 
viewed from the high 'Sconset bank. The breakers, 
when we stood on the shore near them, were terrific. 
No swimmer ventured to test their power and fury. 
The waves dashed high upon the sands, casting them 
hither and thither, and in a few hours changing the 
line of the beach. 

But the ocean was, if possible, grander a few hours 
after the wind subsided. The waves lost nothing of 
their vastness and fury, but became smoother on their 
surface and revealed more distinctly their magnitude. 
The mountains and valleys of water swelling to such 
heights, sinking to such depths, and rolling along 
shoreward so swiftly and then breaking in thunder all 
along the shore, resolved into seething foam, — this was 
possibly a more sublime thing than the storm itself. 

Strange and curious things came up on the beach in 



THE OCEAN IN A STOKM — "THE RIPS " 141 

;i storm; — pieces of wood borne from distant shores, 
perhaps; long, broad ribbons of kelp; sea-weeds of 
many kinds; bits of sponges; shells of various sorts; 
lively little crabs; curious pebbles; and one day a part 
of the huge body of a whale was rolled up on the 
beach with each large wave and was gradually carried, 
by the combined movement of tide and waves, north- 
ward along the coast. 

These days of storm seemed to impress the entire 
summer population of little 'Sconset with awe. They 
forgot to be witty and jocose, and went about as if a 
tragedy of some sort had occurred in their midst, — 
nothing horrible, but something serious. Most of us 
watched the sea by the hour from the blutf, or stand- 
ing on the beach just out of reach of the breakers, 
where we could hardly hear each other speak. We 
did not care, indeed, to talk, for this grand organ tone 
of the ocean was something to still all common sounds, 
and its theme belittled all common thought. 

On these days, too, came many carriages from Xan- 
tucket, with people who wanted to see the surf at its 
best. They came on other days to bathe in the surf, 
to see the curious little 'Sconset cottages, to drive over 
the moors, to visit Sankaty Light House, to dine with 



142 'SCOi^SET COTTAGE LIFE 

friends and talk of summer delights by the sea. But 
now every eye was upon the ocean, each thought was 
of the power and terror of the enraged sea, every 
emotion was in harmony with this deeply moved world 
of waters. 

When the waves and the tide meet on the reefs 
(" the rips " is the localism), where the water is only 
ten or fifteen feet deep, — then there is an upheaval of 
water, a battle of the giants, worth a journey to 'Scon- 
set to see. Half a mile or more south of the village 
there is a shoal where this phenomenon is occasionally 
seen. Wind and tide were in fierce opposition there 
on one of these days of storm, and I went down to 
the beach near the scene. 

Yonder comes shoreward a great wave, towering 
above all its brethren. Onward it comes, swift as a 
race-horse, graceful as a great ship, bearing right down 
upon us. It strikes " the rips ", and is there itself 
struck by a wave approaching from another direction. 
The two converge in their advance, and are dashed to- 
gether,— embrace each other like two angry giants, 
each striving to mount upon the shoulders of the 
other and crush its antagonist with its ponderous 
bulk. Swift as thought they mount higher and higher, 



THE OCEAN IN A STORM — " THE RIPS " 143 

in fierce, mad struggle, until their force is expended; 
their tops quiver, tremble, and burst into one great 
mass of white, gleaming foam; and the whole body of 
the united wave, with a mighty bound, hurls itself 
upon the shore and is broken into a flood of seething- 
waters, — crushed to death in its own fury. 

All over the shoal the waves leap up in pinnacles, in 
volcanic points, sharp as stalagmites, and in this form 
run, hither and yon in all possible directions, colliding 
with and crashing against others of equal fury and 
greatness — a very carnival of wild and drunken waves ; 
the waters hurled upward in huge masses of white. 
Sometimes they unite more gently, and together sweep 
grandly and gracefully along, parallel with the shore; 
and the cavernous hollows stretch out from the shore 
so that you look into the trough of the sea and realize 
what a terrible depth it is. The roar, meanwhile, is 
horrible. You are stunned by it, as by the roar of a 
great waterfall. You see a wave of unusual magni- 
tude rolling in from far beyond the wild revelry of 
waters on " the rips ". It leaps into the arena, as if 
fresh and eager for the fray, clutches another Baccha- 
nal like itself, and the two towering floods rush swiftly 
toward the shore. Instinctively you run backward to 



144 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

escape what seems an impending destruction. Very 
likely a sheet of foam is dashed all around you, shoe- 
deep, but you are safe — only the foam hisses at you in 
impotent rage. The sea has its bounds: "hitherto 
shalt thou come, but no further." Mighty and terri- 
ble within its own domain, and beating wildly upon 
the shore, century after century, it yet obeys the law 
which is mightier than it, and abides within its own 
limits, — powerful to destroy, yet obedient at the last. 
I think I never saw anything in all my life that im- 
pressed me as did this battle of waves and tide on " the 
rips " — not even Niagara. There you comprehend 
the cause, — the fall of water — gravitation. Here it is 
the mystery of the tide, the dominion of the moon 
contending with the waves that themselves — the wind 
meanwhile having already ceased — seem as mysterious. 
Here is an upheaval, a wild, tumultuous conflict of 
waters that ought, to all appearance, to be as calm and 
placid as a lakelet. There seems, indeed, to be life, 
will, — and a malignant will, — anger and ferocity, in 
this desperate struggle, that are demoniac. And] it is 
perhaps this element of the wonderful exhibition of 
i^ature's forces that makes the scene peculiarly im- 
pressive. 



THE OCEAN IX A STORM — "THE RIPS 



145 



I saw this display on two successive days, for hours 
each time; and I have never since felt any degree of 
the old familiarity with the ocean that the summer days 
by the seaside had encouraged in me. Ever since 
those days the ocean has been something more than 
water and waves,— something too grand and terrific, 
too wildly ferocious in its secret nature, too full of a 
sentient spirit of malignity, to be on easy terms with it. 



CHAPTER XVI 

'SCOKSET SOCIAL LIFE — VARIOUS SORTS OF PEOPLE 

T HOPE I have made it somewhat apparent what we 

saw and did at 'Sconset by day. The evenings, as 

well, were delightful, and full of such employments, 

too, as the summer saunterer is disposed to undertake. 

A 'Sconset cottage parlor is a small affair, but it will 
very likely hold all your friends — provided you take 
several evenings for it and entertain them in sections. 
It is the good fashion, at 'Sconset, to entertain and be 
entertained after this manner; — and taking the happy 
results in enjoyment into account, the suggestion of 
our experience seemed worth carrying home, where 
there is less necessity for it. 

It happened that the vocal talent was, for a season, 
well represented here, and that there was in our cot- 
tage a soprano voice in which I (as was proper in a 
good natured kinsman of its possessor) greatly de- 
lighted. Others admired also. Hence, happy eve- 
nings at our cottage and a round of cottages. 

(146) 



'SCONSET SOCIAL LIFE 147 

A company of strangers from all over the land, 
meeting on the summer vacation platform at a resort 
where simplicity of life is the first article of the uni- 
versal creed, where life, indeed, is almost as free from 
conventionalism as a family circle, readily finds itself 
interested in itself. We assume, without much risk, 
that a common purpose has brought together congen- 
ial spirits. The very fact that one is in love with such 
quiet sea-side life, is as good a recommendation to 
society, as it exists at 'Sconset, as a letter of intro- 
duction. 

We certainly had the elements of " good society ". 
There were literary men and women, at rest for a sea- 
son; artists who assiduously sketched and painted the 
quaintest scenes and objects; one man of science, a 
college professor, who dissected and vivisected cats, 
sharks, and pretty nearly every living thing he could 
lay his hands on, and was writing a book and working 
himself thin and haggard; a College President who, 
far from halls of learning and the turbulent college 
dormitories, lounged in a hammock under an awning 
on the beach, genial and happy and restoring his soul 
for another year of work,— filling himself with mag- 
netism and virtue to vitalize the young men who 



148 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

should touch his garments and draw magnetism and 
virtue out of him again; men of affairs who came 
hither to escape ledgers, correspondence, telegrams, 
and worry; fagged and weary women, teachers of 
seminaries, off for a "good time"; professional men 
of various sorts, who came for a few days and were off 
again, prizing their brief respite in this quiet retreat 
as the brightest spot of the whole year; and the fam- 
ilies of many men whom the affairs and exigencies of 
our ill-conditioned world with its exactions will not 
give a vacation until it follows them to the cemetery. 
These were some of the men and women from whom 
an evening " sociable '" was almost nightly made up 
at 'Sconset, at some cottage or other. 

Is it any wonder that the humble fishermen's homes 
flashed with wit, and grew luminous with wisdom, and 
resounded with laughter that was not wholly empty ? 
Such excruciatingly exquisite tales of personal adven- 
ture — notably the night-ride in a sleeping-car, and the 
interview with the austere railroad official — as were 
told with the rarest humor by the brilliant Miss Xorris 
(that isn't quite her true name, but it will answer jyro 
hac vice) from a certain Seminary of Cincinnati, — and 
the no less brilliant conversation of the athletic par- 



'SCONSET SOCIAL LIFE 149 

When and where shall we hear the like 
again ? The good natured battles of wit between 
these two charming ladies, were the best things at 
'Sconset, — except the snrf -bathing and the gigantic 
writhing of wave and tide on " the rips ". 

When the moonlit evenings came, the cottagers ad- 
journed to the beach; and the ocean, with its grand 
monotone and mournful soliloquy, was taken into our 
social circle. It was noticeable what a change there 
was in the tone of the conversation and the pitch of 
the thought of the company, when we came from 
cosey cottage parlor into this presence of the august 
one. The songs that were sung were, however, the 
truest reveal ers of the change that came over all our 
spirits, and gave truest expression to the new inspira- 
tion breathed on all our hearts. 

At 'Sconset the venerable " latch-string " still exists. 
At all hours of the day the cottagers, when calling 
upon each other, knock at the door and enter with 
little ceremony; and among friends the knock itself is 
dispensed with, and the latch-string is pulled without 
any ceremony at all. 

The " town " people and visitors greatly enjoy a 
peep within the cottages. We and our daily life are a 



j^50 'SOONSET COTTA.GE LIFE 

curiosity. How we live in these little bird cages on 
the blufE is a problem they are eager to solve. The 
genuine summer 'Sconseter enjoys being interviewed, 
also, and with great good nature goes through the 
mere box of a house, exhibiting its quaintness of 
structure, its odd corners and cupboards, its tmy 
rooms, and the rare old crockery in the pantry. One 
day a iriend from our own city, in town for the sum- 
mer, drives over, bringing a huge watermelon and a 
basket of peaches, and dines with us. Another day 
in comes, like a breeze from the mountains, with a 
hearty greeting, another friend, bringing with him, as 
he says in his introduction, " the King of Nantucket, 
Mr. Sanford! " and the artist, Eastman Johnson. We 
show them the simple wonders o£ our mansion, but 
modestly assure them that while our cottage is small, 
yet the boundless ocean, just back of the cottage, is 



ours 



CHAPTER XVII 

LIKE A BEE-HIVE— THAT GUi^— " WEARING BOYS 



T 



HIS cottage, like the others, was indeed small, but 
as full as a bee-hive. With the boys in it, it 
buzzed very like a bee-hive. There never was a time 
when a visitor would not have instantly detected that 
it was the home of a lot of healthy boys. A boy al- 
ways has a way of amassing a fortune that is an em- 
barrassment to the elders, since he is sure to distribute 
his riches all over the house. If the house is a 'Scon- 
set cottage, the embarrassment becomes serious. There 
were pebbles and shells, seaweeds, vines, birds' wings 
and heads, and curiosities of all sorts, gathered in 
their raids over the island. The younger children, 
moreover, had been carefully provided for, in case of 
a rainy day and imprisonment in-doors, by the thought- 
ful matron of the house, who had stored a goodly 
assortment of toys and battered playthings, in one of 
the great trunks, before she left home, and now judi- 
ciously brought them out, a few at a time, until the 

(151) 



152 'SCON^SET COTTAGE LIFE 

whole house looked like a minature battle-field, or a 
discomfited toy-shop. Ned had a frightful way of 
leaving his game bag and loaded shells and ammunition 
in the little parlor, and it was accounted a piece of 
extraordinary thoughtfulness on his part if his gun 
was not " stood up " in a corner of the same apartment. 

On his return, one evening, from a long tramp and 
hunting excursion on the island, he went to bed as lead 
goes to the bottom of the sea. Just as he was drop- 
ping off to sleep he remembered his gun, damp with 
the sea-air and begged his mother to take care of it. 
If there is anything under the sun that the bravest 
woman is afraid of, it is a gun ! However, the motherly 
instinct stood in this case for natural bravery; and 
behold! this wife of one man, and mother of four 
children, plucking up a courage which clearly indi- 
cates that she missed her calling in being born a wo- 
man, took the weapon from its corner in the parlor, 
and carried it into the kitchen. She soliloquized, " I 
don't like to touch the thing, but the poor boy is so 
tired I must try to do something with it." Jane, the 
faithful, saw and heard, and trembled. 

Placing the muzzle on the floor, the courageous 
mother proceeded to examine the lock, lifted the ham- 



THAT GUN 153 

mer to see if it was all right, when (of course) bang! 
" the thing " went off. A heavy charge of shot crashed 
through the floor; the gun-barrel puffed and swelled 
its iron throat with indignation, but luckily didn't 
burst; the room was full of powder-smoke; and two 
women screamed with fright, and both, pale as ghosts, 
ran out of doors and looked at each other to see if 
they were actually alive and unhurt. It was, indeed, 
a wonderful escape, without any jocose features — to 
them. 

It was intended to keep this exploit a secret, but 
the husband happening to be absent, the tale had to 
be told — the powder-smoke introducing the subject — 
to the first female 'Sconset friend that came in. Xed 
got a scolding for bringing a loaded gun into the 
house, made another mental memorandum, of a new 
" thou-shalt-not! " and bore a damaged reputation 
during the remainder of the summer. 

Even the little lady in blue flannel seemed inspired 
to distinguish herself, and whenever a piece of wall- 
paper, loosened by the moist sea-air, presented the 
temptation, she persistently pulled it off until we were 
able to trace her all over the house in this " fox-and- 
hounds " game of hers. 



154 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

It is no wonder that the excellent Nantucket lady, 
who owned the cottage, wrote us, when she went to 
take possession and enjoy her own vacation after the 
departure of these young desperadoes, that she thought 
our " family of boys a very wearing one ". My wife 
was greatly distressed by the letter, and believed our 
reputation was irretrievably lost. But when I sug- 
gested that we drown the boys, and so re-establish our- 
selves, she wouldn't hear to it at all. I suspect the 
unaccounted for hole in the kitchen-floor, where an 
ounce or more of shot went safely through into the 
ground beneath, like a well-ordered shaft of lightning, 
was laid at the door of those " wearing boys ". How 
true in this life that, " to him who hath shall be 
given " — even in the way of bad reputation! 



CHAPTER XVIII 

LATTER DATS — THE LIBRARY AGAIN 

piNALLY, one day I woke up to the consciousness 
that my vacation days for this summer were 
ended,— that I had, indeed, already lingered in the lap 
of this dreamy, luxurious life of rest and delight, 
longer than my allotted time. On the late Sunday 
afternoon, before I was to depart and leave my house- 
hold by the sea, we walked together along the bluff 
toward Sankaty Head. In the light of declining day, 
the moors and the distant range of Saul's Hills were 
purple brown, as on many such a day before ; the sea 
came in long, graceful swells, and broke in foam and 
resounding roar; the soft evening breeze from the 
ocean, smelling of the waves and salt sea-foam, re- 
freshed and invigorated us ; while we lingered on our 
way, reluctant to lose anything of the changing scene 
as day passed away and night took the sceptre and 
waved it over land and sea, evoking new beauties and 
grander glories, and inspiring our hearts with an awe 

(155) 



"156 'SCOKSET COTTAGE LIFE 

which the day could not command. The glory of the 
day indeed is one, and the glory of the night is another. 
That night a storm came, — wind, rain, chilling blasts, 
right off from the ocean, — the one cold storm, which 
always comes between delightful summer and more 
delightful autumn. So it happened that my last gaze 
from the bluS back of our cottage was upon the ocean 
in a rage, and the great white pillars of fiercely tossed 
waters out on the reefs; and over all were the dark 
and stormy sky and clouds that seemed to mingle 
with the sea. 

I came away pretty cheerfully, considering what I 
was leaving, — but I suspect it was because the parson 
and his wife were there to bid me good-bye, and I was 
striving to sustain a reputation for philosophy, which 
I very well knew I did not, at that particular junc- 
ture, deserve at all. Every seat in the stage was full, 
for' everybody had taken a hint from the almanac and 
the storm and was going home ; and Mr. Folger drove 
me over to town in his box-cart. The storm was very 
disagreeable, and he lent me a great heavy overcoat, 
worthy of the sea-coast in winter, which protected me 
very well. 

The passage from Nantucket to Wood's Holl was 



LATTER DAYS — THE LIBRARY AGAIN 157 

very rough, — the Captain of the steamer said the sea 
was " rugged ", — and many were sea-sick. The dear 
old Island slowly sank below the horizon, and was 
enveloped in storm and cloud. I gazed in its direc- 
tion long after it had disappeared, and cheered the 
gloomy hour with the sweetest recollections of the 
summer delights it had given me ; and then I turned 
my eyes and thoughts to the great waves that tossed 
and rocked our struggling and groaning little vessel. 
However, they never have accidents on this line of 
boats, and we reached " the continent " in safety. 
Whirling away on the immensely long and heavy train 
to Boston, and then on and on by night, I was at 
home again. 

The " family " remained at 'Sconset a month longer. 
After the storm was over, the beginning of which I 
had seen, the weather was very fine, the temperature 
equable and agreeable, and although most of the sum- 
mer visitors had gone to their homes about September 
first, the life there was as delightful as ever. 

Finally, by a forced march, the brave little mother, 
and the brood of children, and Jane, and the big 
trunks, and the baby carriage, and a reasonably fair 
share of their other impedimenta, came home, — leav- 



158 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

ing 'Sconset at 3 A. m. of one day, and reaching home 
at 7 A. M. of the following day. 

— Again we were seated before the evening wood-fire 
in the grate, in our home library, the chill autumn 
air softened to summer temperature, and our thoughts 
going back to 'Sconset as a thing not now to be antici- 
pated with eager delight, but to be recalled as a mel- 
low memory of the richest pleasures of our life, — a 
summer by the sea, in a cottage, our family all to- 
gether there. 

The matron was ruddy and brown and robust; the 
lads were full of health and vigor; even the dear " little 
laddie ", for whose sake we had, in a large part, planned 
this summer life, was nearly well ; while " that baby I " 
had set out on a career of growth that bids fair to make 
her in all respects equal to the " wearing boys ". 

'' Did you like Nantucket as well as the Adiron- 
dacks ? " asked my wife, a little shyly, conscious that 
this was the supreme test. 

*' Yes, and no," I replied; " the domestic and social 
side of me, and the poet side, so far as there is one, 
say ' Yes ' ; while the sportsman's side — the wild-man 
in me — says ' No '. The two sorts of vacation are 
really not to be compared. Both are delightful, and 



LATTER DAYS — THE LIBRARY AGAIN 159 

to me they have proved to be about equally beneficial, 
— the sea-side life, because of its ease and home-com- 
forts, having, in this instance, done me more good than 
some of my hard-working Adirondack trips." 

" Yes," said my wife, with just the least air of tri- 
umph, " when you came back from the Woods last 
summer, you were all worn out and tired out. You 
always work too hard in the Adirondacks. " 

'' But I am always good for a great deal of hard work 
at home after these trips, you know," said I, " and it 
isn't the worst thing in the world for a man of seden- 
tary habits to have, once a year, all the physical labor 
he can perform, — especially when he performs it from 
the pure love of the thing." 

" At all events, you will admit," added this wise 
woman, judiciously abandoning her former line of 
argument before I should " warm up " too much on 
my favorite theme, — " I am sure you cannot deny, 
that you have enjoyed the summer at 'Sconset with 
your family, — you said so, you know." 

" Yes, yes, yes! — that's true! It was glorious! the 
richest, rarest, best vacation I ever had, in that view," 
I said, and felt, too; " and sometimes I think I never 
will take another summer's rest without going the 



160 'SCONSET COTTAGE LIFE 

same way you and the children go. But, after all," 
visions of forest and stream, recollections of camjis 
and tramps in the rare old woods, floating in upon me, 
— *' after all, it does a man good, sometimes, to go 
a- vagabondizing in the native wilderness, to live like 
an Indian, and get away from everything civilized. 
He comes back to society, to his work among men, 
with a certain something in him gained from the forest 
which I can't explain to you, but which I feel. — Well," 
continued I, after musing a moment, " I don't know, 
— if we can all go to 'Sconset every other summer to- 
gether, and you will let me pack off alone, or with 
Ned, to the Adirondacks and catch trout for the inter- 
mediate summers, I think — as to my vacations — I shall 
be the happiest man in all the town! " 



THE END 



